


Dad's Gift

by Musichick2004



Series: Dad's Gift [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Branding, Brief Crossover, Canonical Character Death, Corporal Punishment, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dom/sub, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Master/Slave, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Slash, Punishment, Racist Language, Slash, Slave Gibbs, Slavery, Warnings in chapter summaries if necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 85
Words: 168,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7153202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musichick2004/pseuds/Musichick2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony DiNozzo Sr. decides to give his son a gift he can't, in good conscience, refuse.</p><p>Jethro's been a slave for 15 years, now this new young cocky owner thinks he can keep him under control?</p><p>No actual rape, but some sexual assault implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturday 0900

“Dad, seriously? You call me out of bed in the middle of the night to get on the first plane in the morning with no explanation. I'm thinking you're dying or something, and now you tell me you just want to give me a _present_? My birthday was MONTHS ago! I was SUPPOSED to be on call this weekend. Do you know how many reports I have to write for Balboa so he would take this weekend?” Tony was pissed. Just like his dad to think only of himself. Giving presents wasn't some altruistic act to him, it was always about himself, no matter how much he spent.

“Junior, this gift couldn't wait. ADAM!” Anthony DiNozzo Senior called his Butler. When the older man opened the office door, Senior waved his hand, “bring them.”

The door swung open and Javier, the trainer, walked into the room pulling 6 slaves behind him.

“What the hell, dad? You know I hate this bullshit.” Tony wanted to spit on the floor to show his distaste, but he knew better than to completely enrage his father. That rug was expensive.

“Anthony. You're almost 40 years old. You work long hours, I've seen how you eat, you haven't had a real girlfriend in god-knows-how-long, you need someone at home to take care of your needs outside of work. Choose one.”

“Screw you. You may have the 'right’ to own these people, but I won't take part in it. And you have _no_ right to criticize my life. I work for a living, I don't need a maid or Butler or whatever _else_ you're trying to imply.” Tony was furious. He hated slavery. As a federal agent, he couldn't participate with the abolitionists, because he swore to uphold the laws as they exist, but there were times he thought it might have been worth it.

“Son, choose one.” Senior was growing impatient.

“No.” Tony was stubborn and wouldn't compromise his values because his father thought he could win him over.

Senior sighed. He went to the fireplace and pulled a brand from the flames. But it wasn't the standard brand of his family. In beautiful scrollwork, Tony clearly made out the letters ADJ. Anthony DiNozzo Junior. “You didn't.” He hissed at his father.

“I did. I had it specially made by the same smith who made mine. Now Junior, one of these slaves will get your brand. I only needed 5. Either you pick or I do. And if you don't want the slave, you know what happens to the branded ones.” Tony gritted his teeth. He knew alright. Once a slave was branded, it was a permanent ownership. They all had tracking chips which were encoded with their current owner, but a brand was for life. And if an owner didn't want their branded slave anymore, they had to be put down.

“Just send one back. Save your money.” His dad was all about money, but he saw the look in his eye. This was about making a point. Forcing his son into something he hated.

“The money doesn't matter. Not like I paid a whole lot for them, I only needed menial workers. This one, for example,” he roughly pulled a small redheaded woman forward by the arm, “would make an excellent maid. Too old for a concubine, but decent looking enough that I wouldn't mind watching her mop the floors.” The woman's eyes showed relief when he declared her 'too old,’ but Tony noticed a shift at the end of the line of his father's newest purchases. He ignored it. If Javier or his father noticed one of them had stepped forward, even briefly, they'd discipline him. His father shoved the woman back into line.

“Or this one,” he grabbed a skinny younger man and pulled him onto his knees as he lost his balance. “Would be an excellent gardener. The dark skin makes them well suited to being outdoors.” Tony felt the bile rise in his throat. The whiter the slave, the better the treatment, he knew that. His father played into that idea as well. His father shoved the young man back his heels, and he stood back in line.

“This one? It looks like cooking may be her forte.” He pulled a probably 30-ish year old woman forward by grabbing her slightly more ample behind. She wasn't fat, but larger and curvier than most slaves. She must have come from a decent household before this. “Only one owner, Tony. A good age, and these,” he grabbed her breasts in his hands, “are definitely nicer than that ex-fiancee of yours.” Tony heard the final slave grumble, saw a slight shift, but thankfully, Javier and his father were focused on him and the curvy Italian-looking slave in front of them. He turned his body to block their view of the man at the end. “Stop. Just stop.”

He sighed. “Dad, maybe some of these people would _rather_ be put down than be owned by someone else.”

“So pick one to send.”

Tony folded his arms in front of his chest and didn't respond. His father shook his head and held out his hand. Javier brought him the brand and he spun the curvy woman around, pulling her plain black shorts down to her knees. “I _was_ looking forward to watching her cook, but if this is your choice…”

“Stop.” Tony dropped his hands. “Jesus, dad, you're a fucking asshole.” Senior grinned and held the brand over his shoulder. Javier took it and placed it back into the fire. “I want to talk to them.” Senior stepped back and waved his hand at the line. “No, alone.”

“Tony, you're not trained, you shouldn't be alone with 6 slaves.” Tony glared at Javier. “I'm a fucking federal agent. They're chained to each other. Secure the ends to the wall of it makes you feel better. But I'm talking to them.” Javier looked at Senior, who nodded.

Once the ends of the large chain were secured to the walls, the two older men left. Tony leaned on the edge of his father's desk and rubbed his face with his hands. “I'm gonna lay this out for you. My dad is an asshole. But even I have to admit he's not the worst owner out there. He's racist, and misogynistic, but doesn't beat slaves or torture them, and when he wants a concubine, he buys one, he doesn't usually force his maids or cooks. There are certainly better places to…’work,’ but once you're settled, he'll pretty much leave you in peace.”

Tony looked at the people in front of him. Each dressed in the standard tight black shorts of the auction block, the women wearing sports bras. They all looked suspicious or terrified or a combination of both. He continued, “I hate slavery. Always have. But I can't let him kill you. So I'm asking each of you what you'd rather do.” He approached the tall thin man in the center. “Would you be content gardening for a racist asshole?” The man looked at the others in the line. He nodded. Tony moved on to the redhead. “Could you handle being a maid in his home, even if he was leering?” She nodded. The curvy Italian was next, the single tear had dried on her cheek. Tony touched her shoulder “he did that for my 'benefit.’ He knew how I'd react, and I'm sorry.” She took a sharp breath, but would not meet his eyes. None of them would. “If you stayed here, working in his kitchen, and he never touched you again, would that be ok?” She shrugged. Tony was tempted to bring her into his arms, but he forced himself to move on. Next was an older man, chin held high, but eyes down. “I know my father's second Butler recently passed. Of old age, which is not very common for slaves. I remember him from when I was a child, and you remind me of him. I'm guessing that was my father's thought as well. Could you be a butler in this house? It's still a slave position, but you'll be treated well.” The man whispered, “of course, sir,” and Tony noticed his hand reaching for the woman beside him. An older woman, with a barely noticeable scar roughly cut around one of her left fingers. “May I?” He asked the man, as he took his hand and confirmed his suspicion. They matched. Tony sighed, then whispered, “I will talk to him. He's an asshole, but he did love my mother. You'll stay together.” The old woman started shaking and leaned onto her husband. Tony didn't know if they were married and then thrown into this, or if they'd met as slaves, but it didn't matter. He straightened her gently, “don't let them see you like this. Don't give them the satisfaction.”

“Thank you.” She whispered.

Tony shook his head. “No. I'm here trying to pick one of you to either take home or get put down, don't thank me.” That left the last slave. _Manual labor_. His father only choose well-built men for the hardest jobs. The ones who only live an average of 10 years doing jobs that should be relegated to horses or oxen or machines. But this one had more than just muscles. “I know my father's systems. You're slated for hard labor. I see by your hands you're no stranger to it, but you'll likely die in less than 10 years. They don't whip and abuse the laborers like some places, but they're not easy on you either. Could you do it?”

The man simply responded, “take the cook.”

Tony admired his chivalry, but he needed to know. “That wasn't my question.”

“I'll die a slave, doesn't matter if it's here or somewhere else. Take. The. Girl.” His eyes met Tony's. A HUGE infraction for a slave, but Tony respected it. Unfortunately, Javier wouldn't. This man was trouble, and even though his father and his staff did not make it a habit to abuse slaves, the rebellious ones were sent away for 'retraining.’ They came back broken, or never came back at all. Tony stepped back and around his father's desk. He pressed the intercom button and called his father back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jacie for her work SOLD which inspired me to start this fic.
> 
> Also, the idea of branding was inspired by KaylaShay


	2. Saturday 1100

“I'd like to speak privately.” His father handed him the brand, but he put it right back into the fire. “I will take one, but I need to speak with you first.” He knew his father would allow it. He'd won the second Tony had said he would take one. Senior nodded and motioned to Javier to take the slaves back to their quarters. He settled into his chair and smiled. “So, son, what did you want to discuss? Their pedigrees? Sexual histories? I brought you a nice mix, although I'm assuming that old couple is beyond your taste.”

“That's one thing. I need you to promise me a few things.”

Senior crooked an eyebrow. “That depends? What things?”

“The old couple stays together. Brand them as yours.”

Senior nodded. “Their age certainly lowered their price, I was already considering it, so that is not a problem.”

“The redhead. Try to keep your hands to yourself, ok?”

Senior laughed. “You know I prefer young and nubile. She's got a great ass, so I can't promise you that I won't grab it, but I wasn’t going to bed her.”

Tony took a deep breath. “I'll buy the Italian. Whatever you paid, I'll reimburse.”

Tony's father laughed, “I thought you might like her, boy. _That_ is certainly one slave I wouldn't mind bedding. But the deal was a branding, not a sale. She's my gift to you.”

“No.” Tony gritted his teeth. “I'm taking two.”

His father's eyes were wide. The only ones left were the dark kid and old blue eyes. “Two? Well, you've certainly gone from zero to sixty in just 10 minutes. Why would you want a washed up laborer?” His son had daddy issues, and he knew it.

“You told me to pick. He's my pick. But I'm buying the Italian outright. No brand.”

His father agreed, and Tony was fairly shocked at just how little father had spent on the girl. He was actually able to cover the whole amount with a good portion of his personal savings account. His father sent for Javier to bring the two slaves to the office when the papers were signed and the two were registered online as transferred.

“Welcome, and congratulations on winning the lottery, you two!” Senior was elated. His son owned not one, but TWO slaves! And who knows, maybe the girl would be lucky enough to bear him a grandchild soon. “My son here,” motioning to Tony, who was sitting in a chair across the room, his hands folded in his lap, “has made his choice. He tried to purchase you both outright, but I wouldn't hear of it. You, my dear, are his already. He's paid, and your chip has been changed.” The girl started shaking and almost fell, until the older slave caught her. Senior went to backhand the man for breaking his position, but Tony spoke up.

“NO!” He didn't move from his seat, but his father turned to him. “He’s mine. You will not strike him for helping someone else.”

“Son, I know I've asked this several times, but are you certain? You don't know what you're getting into with this one. If you're hell bent on keeping him, I can still keep his appointment at the retraining camp. Hell, I can even set him up with some of the more... intimate training, if that's what you'd want.” He knew his son was flexible in his desires, and even he had to admit that the man's eyes were intense, and his body was certainly not that of other middle aged slaves.

“I. Said. No.” And senior dropped his hand.

“Fine. But if he kills you in your sleep, it's not on me. However, the logistics remain. _You_ ,” he stepped toward the tense slave, “are not finished. She is registered as sold. You're registered as branded. You cannot leave this office until that is completed.” The man didn't move. Senior stepped back, grabbed the brand, and handed it to his son. “You know you have to do it. Legally.”

Tony stood and grabbed the iron from his father's hand. “Don't fucking remind me.” He strode toward the man and put the iron back on the fire. His father protested, but he waved a hand to silence him. He looked the slave in the eye, which made his father furious, but he stayed silent. “You're so damn determined to die, fine. But it won't be at the hands of some retrainer. I'll snap your fucking neck if you want it so bad. But right now, I have to do this, or you’ll cause yourself more trouble.” He paused, letting the man contemplate his options. After a few beats, he asked, “where?”

There were 4 options for placing a brand. Everyone knew them. Buttock was the most common, as the flesh was soft and took a brand easily. Next most common was the center of the chest. The easiest to display. Both of those were also easy to restrain the slave as they were branded. More difficult was the crook of the hip, where thigh met belly. And finally, back of the neck. The least common because it was easily hidden, and could cause spinal damage if done poorly. The slave thought about refusing, fighting, Tony could see it in his eyes, but then his shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. “Hip,” he said, in a gravelly whisper. When Tony's father stepped forward to help his son, the slave tensed. “Just you.” Tony nodded and waved his father back. The man pulled his shorts down as Tony reached for the iron again. When he turned back, the man stood proud, even with his shorts at his ankles. The girl gripping his hand in support.

“I'll be fast,” Tony said, as he lined up the brand. He pushed it forward quickly, smelling burning flesh, but the man made no sound, just a tense grunt. He pulled back and saw the slave waver for just a second before regaining his balance. Tony dunked the brand into the bucket of water by the fire and spit into it. “Destroy it.” He told his father, as he carefully spread ointment onto the wound and covered it with a bandage. The slave made no move to pull up his shorts, and Tony assumed he was still getting his bearings from the pain, so he did it for him, as gently as possible. When he was fully covered, Tony met his eyes again and all he wanted to say was "I'm sorry."


	3. Saturday 1800

“Junior, you really need to do this? You don't even have tie-downs!” His father was fuming. “They can't just sit in the car like you're their damn chauffeur! I let you clothe them, but I draw the line at this. Either Javier will follow in the truck, or I will ship them. Your choice.”

Tony rubbed his brow and thought about just how pissed his father was. “Fine. If it will make you feel better, I will upgrade the rental to one with ties. Happy?”

“No. I'd rather you have something properly suited to transport multiple unknown, and one possibly dangerous, slaves. I'd rather send Javier with you.”

“I will concede to the ties, but that's it. They're people for God's sake, I'm not going to hang them up like a slab of beef in the back of the fucking transport truck all the way to DC!” Senior knew his son was just as stubborn as he was. The fact that he'd secure his slaves, even if it was just long enough to leave his home, was a small victory. “Fine. But if this one,” he pointed at the male slave, “kills you, then _I_ get to keep him for the 3 day holding period before he’s put down. And he won't be very happy,”

“Can it, dad. You two, sit over here. Ignore the blowhard.” Tony was glad he was the only one who heard the exhalation that may have been perceived as almost a chuckle from the male. He dialed the rental company and explained the switch. Within 20 minutes, they were there and exchanging paperwork. The car was almost the same, except there were steel bars in various positions in the back seat.

Tony led the woman behind the driver's seat and locked her wrists loosely to one of the bars. “Is that ok?” Be asked honestly. None of it was ok, but for the moment he at least didn't want her uncomfortable. She nodded. The man stood as he approached, and Tony just crooked a finger indicating he wanted the man to follow. Surprising Javier and Senior, he did. He sat behind the passenger seat, and held his hands to be linked to the bar. Tony tensed as he clicked the lock. Quickly he shut the door, and Senior held his hand out for a handshake. Tony kept his hands at his side. “This wasn't a business transaction, it wasn't a 'present,’ it was blackmail. Don't ever call me again.” He turned and walked away.

About two hours later, Tony stopped the car. None of them had said anything, and Tony turned to look at his passengers. The girl was asleep, leaning on the man’s shoulder, so he decided not to wake her. But he looked at this man. The one he’d branded as his. Mostly to save his stubborn ass, but there was more.

“What's your name?” He whispered. Slaves didn't have names except those given by owners. If a slave changed hands, there was never a record of what their name was--before the new owner, or before slavery. Just a number. Most owners didn't care, and the only time they did was to maintain consistency to keep slaves happy.

“Why do you want to know? Just pick one.” the man growled.

“Because, you're a fucking person. You have a name. Make one up, for God's sake.” The man huffed. “Fine. PITA. I'll call you that. Short for--”

“Pain in the ass. Yeah.” Tony smiled. Some communication. The man sighed, “Jethro.”

“Ok Jethro. I'll be honest, I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do with you. I've got plans for her--”

“Celia.” Tony looked at him again. He had pulled the woman as close as the chains would allow. “What plans?” He was bristling. Jethro was definitely not a life-long slave, he had spirit.

“Calm down, nothing bad. Frankly, my goal is freedom, but I don't have the pull for that. I have a friend, however, who does. He's a good man, hates slavery just as much as I do, but his mother needs help. He has had nothing but bad luck with care agencies since her slave died, and I think Celia might be a good fit. If she agreed to work for him, he may be able to change her status. I'll have to talk with him about it, of course.” Tony knew Ducky just might kill him for this. But his money and dual citizenship with a much more liberal country made things easier, and he really did need the help with mother.

“ _If_ she agreed? You _own_ her. You can make her do whatever you want.” Jethro practically spit in his face.

“I _can._ But I won't. If she doesn't want to work for Ducky, I'll find someone who won't hurt her. I'll find someone decent. Ducky is the only person I know who has been able to successfully get slaves’ statuses changed, but even he can only do so much. If he does it too often or without ‘just cause,’ 'his ability to do so could be compromised. The politics are bullshit, but I'm doing my best here.”

Jethro seemed to relax a little. Tony continued. “As for you, I hate slavery, but I'm not stupid. You're not some washed up laborer, as my dad claimed. I haven't read your full file, but I know military when I see it. Special forces or Marines, I'm guessing. Which means my father was right about one thing, you _could_ kill me in my sleep. My home only has basic precautions, so for a few days we're staying in a hotel.” Jethro tensed again. This little speech meant he was stuck in chains. Hotels now often had at least a few rooms with slave quarters.

“But I'll figure it out soon. I haven't formally introduced myself. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo Junior, unfortunately son of Senior, NCIS.” Jethro's eyes shot up. Tony grinned. “Seals or Marines?” Not too many jarheads or flyboys knew what NCIS stood for.

“Marines. Gunnery sergeant.” Jethro said, proudly.

“It's fucked up, Gunny. I can't trust you, not yet, but I damn sure want to. Pleasure to meet you. Wish the circumstances were very different.” He reached a hand over the seat to shake Jethro's hand. Jethro could have easily grabbed it and snapped the bone, but he shook it instead. Tony smiled, turned back to the steering wheel and started the car. He didn't know if this was a good idea, how he was talking to Jethro. He'd have to talk to Tim when he got home. “Since she's out, I'm assuming she doesn't need the head. You?” Jethro shook his head. “On we go, then.”


	4. Saturday 2330

They pulled into the hotel at almost midnight. It had been a long drive, and Tony really needed the head. He hadn't wanted to stop, though, out of concern for his cargo. He had no doubt Jethro could take care of himself, but an unattended female slave was tempting for some of the redneck types he drove past at these gas stations. He had called ahead to reserve a room with slave quarters, and when he got there, he decided to defy the rules. He chained the pair to each other instead of having their hands bound at their sides or behind their backs, then motioned toward the smaller room. “I asked for a cot, but they said they didn't have one. I'm going to leave you here for a bit so I can get a few things, so you'll have to stay there. I wish I didn't have to, but I can't break all the rules here.”

Jethro huffed, wrapped his arm around Celia, and slammed the door behind him. Tony closed his eyes as he slid the deadbolt shut, then leaned his forehead onto the door. Why me? He thought. The lives of two people in his hands? One would be easy, he knew Ducky would take her in, and he’d probably even pay Tony in exchange for the labor -- only as much as he’d pay a care agency, of course -- and she would love Ducky. He was a good man, he would treat her well. But Jethro? He was his responsibility. He couldn't find somewhere else for him. He couldn't _make_ him work.

Although, technically, depending on why he was a slave, he _could_ bring him to work. Hell, the director had a slave, Cynthia. But Tony was always so vocal against it. What would his team think?

 _Fuck 'em._ He pushed himself off the door and pulled out his phone. Ducky was used to getting calls from him late at night, just not usually personal ones. He dialed as he made a list of things he needed to buy in his head.

“ _Anthony, are you in need of my services?”_ Ducky sounded chipper for almost one o’clock in the morning.

“Yeah, but not for work.”

“ _What has happened, my dear boy?_ ”

Tony proceeded to explain what was going on, and what he needed from Ducky. Payment for Celia's transfer was never discussed, as Tony just wanted to get this over with. He didn't care about the money. He chose 3 outfits for the young lady, hoping he’d guessed her size accurately. He had enough experience with women to be fairly confident. He chose a pair of jeans and some polos for Jethro. He paused at the underwear...was he a boxers or briefs guy? He settled for a pack of boxer briefs and moved on. More medical supplies to care for Jethro's brand, and snacks and breakfast food for all three. The hotel frowned upon bringing slaves to breakfast, and he damn sure wasn't going to make a fancy Belgian waffle while they sat up there with the 'slave rations’ of 2 eggs and toast.

By the time he got to the hotel, Ducky was already there, leaning against his classic car. “Anthony, how could you let your father do this? That poor girl…”

Tony put a hand on his shoulder. “Duck, you gotta believe me, I'm trying. I'm glad you came. Wasn't expecting you 'til morning, so she’s probably asleep, but we can check if you want.”

He led Ducky to his room, but pushed him back before he could unlock the door. The bolt on the outside was still locked, but there was light coming from under the door. He hadn't left the lights on. “Behind me, Duck.” He told the M.E. as he drew his weapon. He unbolted the door and pushed through, sweeping the room to find Jethro on one of the chairs, reading a paper, and Celia asleep on his bed. The cuffs were on the small table next to Jethro.

Jethro set the paper down and Tony lowered his gun. “Jesus. How the hell?” The slave smirked and held up what looked like a piece of zipper. He’d picked the damn lock, and busted the deadbolt on the slave quarters. Tony couldn't help it. He laughed. God, his father would have killed this guy. “Fine. We'll deal with you later, but I'm not sleeping with you in the room.” He said as he holstered his weapon. Motioning Ducky inside, he shut the door.

“Doctor Mallard. You must be Jethro, I take it?” He shook Jethro's hand firmly. “And this sleeping beauty is Celia?”

Jethro stepped between Ducky and the sleeping woman. “Yes.”

Tony sighed. “Jethro's her hero. I don't blame you, but this is gonna make things a lot harder, Jethro. Let's just sit, ok? All of us.”

Including Jethro in the conversation was definitely the right thing to do. Tony would figure out how to handle HIS situation later. But for now, the man came down off high alert, and actually seemed to warm up to Ducky. Until the conversation turned to his status.

“And what, pray tell, are your plans with young Anthony here?” Immediately, Jethro's glare turned to ice. “Why don't you ask HIM? Not like I get the option to leave.” Tony flinched. Not at Jethro's tone, but at what he knew would be Ducky's.

“Anthony?” Ducky's voice lowered as he quietly and slowly turned toward him.

Tony swallowed hard and, looking right at Jethro, responded. “He’s mine, Duck. My dad was gonna brand one of them, I picked him. He’d be dead otherwise.”

Ducky launched into the tirade he knew was coming. But Tony didn't flinch anymore. Jethro had enjoyed Tony's momentary lapse in confidence. He wouldn't let that happen again. “Ducky. Stop.” Tony turned to his friend. “It's shitty, but what's done is done. Jethro is mine, and nothing can change that. But he won't be abused or tortured because he’s got a fucking brain.” Tony’s voice was strong and final. “Let's just focus on Celia first. And when she wakes up, we'll ask her what she wants to do.”

“I’m awake.” The young woman stood and shuffled toward the three men, head bowed, until she reached Tony’s side. She started to kneel next to him but he grabbed her arm. “No. Get a chair. Let's talk,”

By the time morning arrived, Tony was registering the transfer on the slave auction website. Thankfully, slaves didn't actually have to be bid on anymore, private sales were more and more common. But you still had to do the legal registration. Tony gave Celia the clothes and toiletries he had purchased the night before, and her eyes filled with tears. She hugged Tony, then almost panicked until he hugged her back. “Just, go get cleaned up. The rest is yours to keep, and I'm sure Ducky can help with the rest of what you'll need,” She nodded and ran to the bathroom.

“Anthony, it may take several years to get my application approved, you know that? Even Scotland has lots of red tape.”

Tony nodded. “I think she knows too. But just knowing that you've got her back will be a good thing, Duck. I know you'll do good by her.”

“And of course, I'll have to explain mother's condition. A pretty girl like that, and Mother will make certain assumptions. She doesn't seem to remember that a man of my age would not be cavorting with such young ladies, nor that said young lady would not be giving her grandchildren.”

Tony laughed. “I'm sure she’ll understand.” Celia came out of the bathroom, smiling for the first time since Tony had met her.

Ducky stood and stretched. “Well, my dear, if you are ready, we should be off.” She looked to Jethro immediately. Ducky took notice. “I can assure you, Anthony and I are good friends. You two will see each other frequently.”

Jethro stood and hugged Celia. “Be good kiddo, huh? He’s good. Just a gut feeling.” She smiled and nodded, gathering her things, then noticing the chains on the table, she held out her wrists.

Ducky took her hand and turned away from the chains. “Nonsense. Let them yell at me, you'll never wear a chain again, if I have my say in the matter.”

And then it was just the two of them.


	5. Sunday 0500

Tony stared at Jethro, Jethro stared back.

“This is FUBAR.” Tony muttered.

“I could always leave. Get outta your hair.” Jethro suggested, a gleam in his eye.

“And if anyone finds out? Then you're put down and I'm arrested. No thanks.” Tony paused. “Why?”

“Why what?” Jethro knew what he was asking, but wanted to hear him say it.

“Why are you a slave? Not many military folks end up here.”

“Murder. Premeditated murder.” Jethro held his gaze without an ounce of guilt.

Tony nodded. “What did they do?” He didn't do it in cold blood. Vigilante justice sounded about right.

“Killed my family. I hunted him, stalked him, then killed him. One bullet between the eyes.”

Tony thought about this. With Jenny as director, he never could have gotten this guy into the office. But Vance? After Jackie's death, Vance might understand. “Would you do it again?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“And if he hadn't killed your family, would you have killed him?”

Jethro seemed to pause at that one. But he responded, “he was a bad motherfucker. But no.”

“Good enough for me. Now, since you can't seem to handle orders long enough to stay in the slave room, I'm just going to have to leave you here so I can get some goddamn sleep. I left food and drinks in the fridge, I'll be back with dinner tonight. You like pizza?”

He stopped by the front desk to let them know there was an unattended slave in his room, and that the slave quarter door was broken, before he drive back to his house. It was time to make some modifications. The hotel would do random checks of the hallway and watch the security cameras and alert him if anything was amiss.

By the time the evening rolled around, he was exhausted. He'd hired contractors to make comfortable, but secure, living quarters in his basement. He didn't want it to be permanent, so they moved his barely-used workshop to the garage and got to work. He also, begrudgingly, sorted through his assortment of disciplinary tools. He never intended to use them on Jethro, but just in case…

His father was definitely wrong about one thing. He wasn't untrained. In fact, he'd been required to take several courses on the topic for his leadership training, and the possibility that the agency would purchase slaves for routine work. If they did, their discipline would fall to the team leads, which included Tony. He'd enjoyed the courses, only because the 'slaves’ being disciplined class were actually volunteers, and Free. They just liked the submission. And Tony liked the sounds they made when it was his turn to deliver a punishment. He got high praises, was even recommended as a government trainer, but he'd never done it to someone unwillingly before.

“Delivery!” Tony called as he opened the door. Immediately, he was slammed back against the wall and the food went flying. Just as quickly, he brought the taser hard into Jethro's ribs, making him convulse and fall to the floor. “Not stupid, Jethro.” He collected his pizza and pulled the man back into his room.


	6. Sunday 1930

Jethro opened his eyes and realized his wrists were cuffed to the bed. “What the fuck?” He growled.

“Your fault. You jumped me trying escape, I tased you, then I restrained you. Cause and effect. Plus, you also really messed up the toppings on my pizza.” Tony munched on a piece of the mangled pie, “but I was too hungry to give it up.”

“So, mr. 'I’m against slavery, boohoohoo,’ what are you going to do to me? Was that all an act for your friend back there?” Jethro struggled against the ties, but Tony knew they'd hold,

Tony stood. “Just because I don't like slavery, doesn't mean I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Regardless of what my father believes, I AM trained. Damn well, frankly. And no matter what, you're mine. If you run off or cause trouble, it's on me. If you act up at work, it's my ass on the line. So let's get this straight right fucking now.” He leaned into Jethro's face, “you're _mine._ ” His exhaustion and frustration was wearing his patience very thin. He needed to talk to Tim. He was bouncing from buddy buddy to venemous overseer, and it wasn't OK. He'd never admit it to anyone else, but Tim could probably set him straight. Always could.

Jethro turned and twisted, but couldn't get his hands around the throat of this pompous little prick. “Just put me down.” He sneered.

“No. Because you're good. I could use good. But until you get it through your thick skull that it's in your best interest to just listen to me for now, maybe you could use a little discipline yourself.”

Jethro stilled. “You're a hypocrite.”

“No. I'm a man with a goddamn life to live. My father pushed this on me, but doesn't mean you can't be a part of that life too. I'm just not sure how else to convince you to knock it off.”

Jethro kept pulling at the ties, but Tony continued. “I'm not unfair. But my father was right about one thing...you need retraining before you can be trusted alone, or especially at work. Now, I'm not going to send you away. As I said, I'm no stranger to this. You'll know the rules, and that will be that. One of the rules you should have known already? No assaulting me to try and escape. You _will_ be punished for that.”

Jethro stopped struggling and met Tony’s gaze. It was a challenge. “Rule 2. During this retraining and while in public, you will follow your original training. Come to heel and eyes down unless directed otherwise, address me as 'boss’ or 'sir,’ none of this 'Master’ bullshit. I'll forgive _this_ transgression, but from now on…” Tony stood and turned. He pulled a piece of pizza from the box and held it to Jethro's face. The man closed his eyes and turned his head. Tony dropped the still-warm slice on his chest. “If I unlock one of your ties, you think you can manage to eat without getting tasered again?” Jethro didn't respond, so Tony spun the wheels of the 6-number combination lock and released one hand. Jethro sat up and ate the piece of pizza, eyeing the tie locked around his other wrist.

“After your escape earlier, I'm not underestimating you," Tony said noting Jethro's line of sight. "That won't come off easy. And you're stuck in it for a while. There’s water and a urinal if you need. I'll leave your hand free for the evening, get some rest.” Tony stood and just before he left the room, he pushed the table with the leftover pizza just into Jethro's reach.

In the morning, he was pleased to see the lock on the door was undisturbed. Even if Jethro had gotten through the cuff, at least he was still there. When he came in, though, he found the man's hand contorted and bloody from trying to pull his wrist out of the tie. “Shit.” He thought. He’d need someone to watch him, wouldn't he?

But he steeled his emotions and kicked the bed to wake the man. “Part of rule 1 is not harming yourself attempting escape either.” He hated to do it, but he took the needle from his bag and injected the substance into Jethro's thigh before he could react. “What the?” Jethro thrashed, then his eyes went wide. “What did you give me?”

“Just something to help you sleep.”

And sleep he did. Tony cleaned him up, changed his shirt, and called for the hotel to assist in his transfer to the car.


	7. Monday 0600

When he got home, Jethro was just starting to wake up and could help drag himself into the house and down the basement stairs. There, Tony strapped him carefully to the bench he’d had brought down yesterday until he fully woke up.

When Jethro awoke, he found his wrist was bandaged and carefully taped, but he was strapped to something much different from a hotel bed. He was alone, in the dark, and...shit, where were his fucking pants? He was bent over something that pushed painfully on the brand on his hip. He started to struggle when the light came on and he heard footsteps on the stairs. “Look, Jethro, here's the deal. You hurt me, you get punished. You hurt yourself, you get punished. No getting around it. You're not going anywhere. If you escape, I'll have you tracked and brought back to me. Your status won't change, but if I feel that I can trust you, then your liberties within this house will greatly increase.” Tony held a paddle, spinning it from side to side. “You’ll count to thirty. Aloud. If you screw up or lose count or I can't hear you, you start over.” Tony came up behind Jethro and brought the paddle down with a hard crack. Jethro took a breath and said “one.”

Tony controlled his pace, his breathing, stroking Jethro's red cheeks and thighs between strikes. No doubt Jethro had been through much worse, judging by the scars across his back. But Tony wanted to keep him on edge. He wanted Jethro's body confused and off kilter. Brute force wasn't going to work with him. By 25, the man was shaking. He hadn't cried out or made any sounds beyond the strained count he was keeping. Tony ran his short fingernails across the redness in front of him and smiled at the quiet hiss he received. Then immediately came number 26. He glanced down and noticed that at some point, Jethro had become aroused. An interesting turn of events, he brought his final four blows closer to the inside of his thighs, in quick succession. At these, Jethro groaned, much to his embarrassment.

Tony stepped back and pulled the cool, damp cloth from the bowl he’d brought with him and placed it across Jethro’s hot red skin. “Minor infractions I tolerate quite well. But what you did last night is unacceptable. Your punishment is done.” He unbuckled the straps holding Jethro's wrists and ankles and helped him down, laying him gently on the bed and cuffing his ankle to a post in the center of the footboard. Jethro kept his head down, rolling to his side facing away from Tony on the small bed against the wall. Tony hated himself. But this wasn't about breaking him. The man wanted to escape so badly that he couldn't see that this was going to be a damn good life for him. If Tony could ever get him his freedom, he would. He would never stop trying. But until then, he needed to at least stop trying to fucking run.

“I'll be down with some food in a little while. If you'd rather have some snacks, there are some in the fridge.” Jethro made no sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where I find Tony a bit too OOC, but he's struggling with this, and every time I rewrote the chapter, nothing else works right, so I'm back to the original. I'll post two chapters in a row, maybe to help explain a little about why he falls back on this. It's not a persistent theme, but eventually it will come up again in other circumstances.


	8. Monday 0700

“Hey McGoo, what's up?”

_"I don't know, Boss, you called me. Thought we were off for the holiday?"_

Tony shook his head. Was it Monday already? Eh, Columbus day wasn't really on his radar. “Oh yeah... heh...um...I need some help at the house. Advice mostly. You free?”

Tony had called his SFA because he knew the ins and outs of slave training. He hated the traditional whips and torture methods, but was classified a level one intimacy trainer. That wasn't what Tony wanted with Jethro, but the techniques for obedience in that style were not as blunt and brutal as standard obedience.

_"'Advice’ Tony? What kind of advice?"_

Tony sighed “The 'bring your paddles’ kind.”

_"Ooh, boss...thought we weren't gonna do that anymore now that we're on the same team?"_

Tony and McGee had been together a few years ago. Tony had seen Tim at a local club and assumed he was a sub...boy could looks be deceiving. Tim had been a Dom since he was 21, and had taken that knowledge and experience into the training business. Tony was surprised at how quickly he fell into a submissive role, and stayed there for so long, while being the same strong alpha at work. He was usually very secure in his position as a Dom, but after Wendy left him for some richer guy, Tim gave him a place he felt he needed. “Not for me, Tim. My dad pretty much forced a slave on me.”

_"I thought the pleasure slaves were the most objectionable to you?"_

“I don't want that from him, but I think he’d respond better to some of the obedience techniques. He tried to escape and hurt himself and me, so I," Tony paused, embarrassed he'd gone that far before figuring out a real game plan, "I paddled him, Tim, and he got...aroused. He’s such an Alpha male I wasn't expecting it. I don't think he was either, honestly, he seemed pretty embarrassed.”

_"Well, Tony, you know that sometimes all you Alpha males need is a strong Dom."_

Tony couldn't help his own arousal as he remembered the nights and weekends he had spent with Tim. “Thanks for reminding me. Unfortunately, I don't know if I'm strong enough for that. I mean, give me a willing sub or switch, and I'll have 'em screaming for more in a few minutes. But this? I don't even know which way to go. I need to talk this out. He’s not new, but he’s never been broken, I don't think, and I don't want him broken. I just need to be able to trust he won't run or kill me in my sleep. He has no reason to trust me, so I have to settle for obedience for now. I know how to give a spanking, so I just... Did it. Maybe I shouldn't have...”

_"Boss, I thought you were really against slavery? Why not just find somewhere else for him, or drive him to Mexico or something?"_

“My dad made me brand him.”

_"Shit."_

“Yeah. And knowing my dad, he’s keeping an eye on his tracker. If I try something stupid like sending him to Denmark, he’ll know and have the cops on him before I could sneeze twice. He’d shoot first, ask questions later.”

_"An unattended branded slave? Yeah. Um, I can come over around 2?"_

“Thanks Probie. I owe you. Oh, and bring your computer. I might need your help finding something.”

Tony hung up and rested his head on his arm at his table.


	9. Monday 1500

“Afternoon, sunshine.” The geeky doughy _kid_ pushed his naked leg with his boot. Jethro opened his eyes and glared.

“Who’re you?”

The boy grinned, “you can call me Master Tim. I'm a friend of Agent DiNozzo’s.” He didn't elaborate further, just kept watching. Jethro shifted his weight and winced a little, almost forgetting the still-stinging skin on his ass. Eventually, he nodded. “I'm gonna grant you 15 minutes to ask and say whatever you want, as long as it isn't outright violent or completely disrespectful. Choose your time wisely. If you want information, you'll ask questions. Or you can rail about the unfairness of it all. Either way, your time starts now.” Tim leaned back onto his chair and folded his arms.

Jethro thought about his options. Was this a trap? He tested by meeting Tim’s eyes. No response. “Why are you here?”

“To evaluate you.”

“For what?”

“Agent DiNozzo has a moral objection to slavery, which means it is hard for him to be objective in terms of your future necessities. And training.”

Jethro snorted. “And _you're_ going to make the recommendations?”

Tim smirked. “Yes. I'd handle your training too, if he'd let me. I can be very persuasive. But I'm currently under strict instruction that I don't touch you unless absolutely necessary.”

 _He’s a cocky little shit._ “Probably good for you.”

Tim didn't react. “Your 15 minutes are almost up.”

“What does he want from me?”

Tim nodded. “Honestly, I don't know. I'll be discussing that with him when I go upstairs.”

“Where am I?”

“In his basement. The only part of his house I cleared as safe for now.”

“You his boss?”

Tim chuckled knowingly. _Used to be._ “No. I'm just a certified trainer. I've got more experience in this area of expertise.”

“Am I gonna get put down?” The defiance in his voice wavered. Tim definitely noticed.

“That's up to you. Agent DiNozzo has a lot on the line here to keep it from happening, but if you'd rather…” he let the statement hang in the air as the slave looked at the clock.

15 minutes were up. It was a test. He hung his head. “No sir.”

Tim stood and left without a word.

* * *

 

He sat at the table with Tony and scrubbed a hand over his face. “He's gonna be tough.”

Tell me about it,” Tony replied. “What should I do?”

McGee thought about it. “He needs a firm hand, Boss.”

Tony cringed and pushed his chair back, pacing. “He's a person, Probie. I'm not gonna break him. He's a fucking Marine. It's my job to protect Marines. And he's so alpha it’s never left, even after this long. I promised I'd make his life better, not just become another slave owner, beating him until he submits out of fear.”

“You submitted to me.” McGee reminded him.

“Yeah, but I'm a switch hitter on occasion, and that was consensual. This guy? No way. Plus, NOT consensual.” Tony was getting irritated with Tim's casual attitude.

“Tony.” His voice made Tony stop. It was _the_ voice. “Stop. Sit.” His foot pushed the chair back to the table and Tony sat without further instruction. Tony hated that McGee could do that to him, but he had to admit, he was right. He had to calm down.

“Tim, don't use the voice, please. We agreed.” His eyes were closed, trying to think.

Tim's hand touched his arm. Back to normal work-McGee, he tried to talk some sense into his team lead. “Boss, this guy _was_ a Marine. Not like ‘once a Marine always a Marine’. No, that's not who he is anymore. He has spirit, but think about it. How long has he been a slave?”

Tony thought back to the meager file they'd dug up on Jethro earlier. “15 years.”

“How old was he when he was captured?”

“33”

“So half of his adult life he's been a slave. And from what he said, in the year before he was captured, he lost everything. His career, his family. He was broken before they even got him.”

Tony nodded.

“And if he's survived 15 years as a slave, especially an alpha male like him, he's definitely broken. He's had how many owners?”

Tony pulled his file up on the screen, “3.”

“So he's had some consistency. The marks on his back are old, probably a good 10 years. Tony, I know you hate it, but probably the best way to get him to trust you right now is to be a fair and consistent _owner_. Not his friend. You're a man of your word and he's been in this so long that he'll only believe it if you act the part. This moral objection is admirable, but it could be read as weak. From what you've told me, you've been inconsistent--buddy buddy and apologizing, then bending him over our old bench and paddling him. You can't do that.”

Toy sighed. “Tim, how could he trust someone who disciplines him like a child?”

Tim’s hand went from Tony’s arm to his hair and he clenched tight. “How did _you_ feel when we were together?” _The_ voice. _Goddamnit,_ he thought, as his cock took notice. But instead of punching Tim or pushing out of his grasp, he closed his eyes and practically whimpered.

“Secure.”

Tim released his grip and ran his fingers through Tony's hair. “I took care of you. You trusted me and my judgement. _That's_ what he needs.”

Tony took some deep breaths. “But, like I said, _consent_ , McGee.”

“Doesn't matter. There _will_ be resistance at first. Obviously. But you can't think about this as if he’s you, or some marine that's just been picked up. He’s been in this 15 years, and the structure and blind obedience of the military before that. He’ll feel security whether he wants to or not.”

Tony's shoulders slumped. He knew McGee was right. “McGee, where should I start?”

Tim smiled and grabbed his books. Tony needed some quick lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, McGee comes off as a prick. But he cares more about Tony than Jethro. He thinks he knows what is best for Tony, and he's not afraid to show it. I like McGee, I'm just writing him a bit more conceited and confident/secret alpha than the show. Don't hate him too much!


	10. Monday 1800

Tony came down the stairs in jeans and a clean button down shirt. He had made sure he was clean and professional. There was a reason he was considered one of the best undercover agents, and if he had to portray a confident and collected owner, then so be it. He tossed a duffel bag onto the bed next to Jethro, startling him. “What's this?”

Tony kept his voice controlled and calm. “I'll allow some leeway, since we haven't discussed all the rules yet, but for now, just listen to me. These are your clothes. It is what you will be permitted to wear until I determine otherwise.” He waved a hand, indicating that Jethro should open the bag. Inside were 5 pairs of black pants with buttons up one leg and 5 white t-shirts. “I do laundry twice a week, and I expect your clothes to be in that basket when I do. If they're not, you'll be punished _and_ have to wear dirty clothes until I do laundry again. Is that understood?” He could see the tension building in Jethro's arms as he held the bag, but he continued.

“In terms of speaking, you already know not to speak unless spoken to. The only exceptions to this are if you or someone else is in danger, or out of necessity, such as needing the restroom, in which case you will address me first. I'm not entirely inflexible on this, but if you slip, expect that you will be punished. Should I choose to forgive the infraction, it will not be an indication of acceptance for future acts. Is that clear?” Jethro met his gaze, a light of fury behind his eyes. Tony was impressed with himself for keeping his cool.

“Eye contact is forbidden from this moment forward, unless I request it.” He narrowed his eyes and lowered his chin slightly, until Jethro closed his eyes. “Good. I will bring you meals, and you will eat. You will always have additional snacks, and unlimited water to drink. I expect you to maintain this area as if it were a military barracks. That includes a made bed every morning, clean dishes, and twice weekly thorough cleaning of all areas. As we move on, I will evaluate your progress and more privileges and responsibilities may be added. In your bag you will also find toiletries. I expect you to shower at least once a day and maintain your fitness.”

Jethro rummaged in the bag and pulled out the toiletry bag and found shaving cream but no razor. “I'm not stupid,” Tony said, indicating the bottle. “I will shave you daily.” He readied himself as he saw Jethro's hand curl into a fist. His jaw tightened, but he did not make eye contact. He didn't rush Tony. He sat, tense, almost buzzing with anger.

Finally, Tony concluded his spiel. “Your discipline will be fair, but firm. I will not deny you food or drink, although luxury items may be restricted. I will not intentionally cause bleeding or scarring as others have obviously done to you. I will not torture or maim you, no matter your infraction. If you do something that terrible, I can simply have you put down. Do you understand?”

No response.

“Maybe I wasn't clear before. While you will not speak unless spoken to, you will also respond to my questions. Do. You. Understand?” Tony tried to push down the sick feeling in his stomach at speaking to this man this way. He’d had subs before, but this man was definitely _not_ a sub.

Jethro slowly raised his head and locked his eyes with Tony’s. A dare. “And if I don't agree?”

Tony smiled. Hopefully a confident, convincing smile. He grabbed Jethro's silver hair, tight and pulled up, forcing the man's face down toward his lap with a gasp. “You don't have a choice.” He let go and smacked the back of his head. “Consider that your punishment for looking me in the eye. Next time I won't be so nice.”

And Tony left the still half naked man, shaking with anger, in the basement and turned out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm just gonna post what I have. It might have typos and stuff, and I may go back and rewrite some stuff, but I'm just gonna move on past the yucky Tony section!


	11. Monday 1900

“McGee, tell me you found something?” Tony was exhausted. Emotionally, mostly. He could practically feel the anger and betrayal radiating from the basement. Owners weren't given information on slaves, but their government files were usually more complete than what he and McGee had found earlier.

_“Yes, boss, I did. His records are incomplete because he was caught and processed and tried in Mexico. They sold him on a US block because he was a citizen and US auctions bring more money. The file we found was just the basics given to the US auctioneer.”_

“And?”

_“Well, he's good, boss. Marine sniper, one of the best they had. Did a couple tours in Iraq, lots of commendations.”_

“His family, Probie.”

_“Wife witnessed a murder. She was under protection detail while he was overseas, but…”_

“They got her anyway.” Tony fell back onto his desk chair. This guy should be getting medals pinned to his uniform, but instead he was chained to a bed in his basement. Maybe he should have had him put down, it'd be honorable at least. But Tim had told him he didn't want that. The way he’d asked him...he wanted to live.

_“Yeah. Daughter too.”_

Tony knew that, from what Jethro had told him, but it was confirmed. “Anything else? Any other family? Where's he from?”

_“Father owns a store in Stillwater, PA. Mother died when he was a kid.”_

“Got the number?” Tony wasn't sure he would use it, but he wanted as much information as he could find on this man.

_“Sending it to your phone now. And Boss...it doesn't look like the father was ever notified. Mexico isn't the best in international slave relations.”_

Great. The old man has had no answers for 15 years. Maybe he would have to call. “McGee, anything I can take to Vance? If he's gonna stay with me, he’s gotta work. I know he’ll be damn good at it, but I need more than my gut telling me that.”

_“Aside from his military training, I got nothing.”_

“How did he find this guy in Mexico?”

_“No idea. Took him a while, though. He got blown up right around the time his family died. Spent a while in a coma, then came back. Got old NIS notes here about the case. The suspect, Hernandez, jumped ship to Mexico. 2 months later, he's dead and your guy is in chains.”_

“Who was the agent in charge?”

_“Mike Franks. Don't know him.”_

Tony remembered Mike. They overlapped for about 2 weeks at NCIS. “I do. And I'm guessing he knows how this guy found Hernandez.” _Wonder if he knows the consequences._ Franks was always more about 'justice’ than the law, at least from the stories he’d heard and the two cases they'd worked together.

_“Maybe Franks could help us. If this Jethro is good, Franks may remember him.”_

“Maybe.” Tony didn't say any more.

After a few moments, McGee cleared his throat.

_“So… How's it going with…”_

“He's pissed, Tim. Obviously.”

_“But you didn't let it get to you? Tony, testing out a new owner is always stressful for slaves. Alphas are the hardest. If you're weak or inconsistent, he'll focus on planning his escape--whether he kills you or not. That's why most owners just want them broken, it's easier. If you're nice, he'll take advantage and create a plan. If you're abusive, he'll use his anger to fuel his plan. Firm and fair and consistent is really the only way to go. And making sure he knows that, once his punishment is over, the slate is clean. That went a long way for you, Mr. Guilt trip.”_

“Hey now, no insulting your superiors.”

_“Not an insult. You always thought I held things against you. You were too worried about what I'd think. Eventually, I beat that out of you. Maybe even carried over to work.”_

Tony huffed, “you're taking credit for my improvement at work? You were stuck in a basement, Elf Lord, you didn't know me as a junior agent.” While he'd enjoyed his time as McGee's submissive, he was glad they'd graduated to friends. 

_“If the shoe fits.”_

Tony sighed. “I'll never admit to saying this, but maybe you're right.”

McGee wouldn't kick him when he's actually vulnerable. At work, he played the part of the easily tricked and gullible computer geek, and relished any opportunity to get back at his prank-focused team lead. But at home, he knew Tony's real weak spots.

_“Tony, I'm sure you're doing fine. He'll rebel, no doubt, but how you handle it will set the tone. Eventually he'll realize you're not going to fly off the handle and beat him, and you're not going to give in and go soft on him, and if I'm reading him right, he'll respect that. Might not like it, but it's a step.”_

“Thanks. Listen, I'm gonna take some time off for this. Tell Vance I'll call him tomorrow, maybe set up a video conference.”

_“You...uh... need help with that, Boss?”_

“Hey, I might not be a computer genius like _some_ people, but I can handle a simple call.”

_“Just checking. Sweet dreams Tonio.”_

“I'm glad you find yourself amusing.” McGee laughed as he hung up, his old nickname for Tony hanging in the air. He hadn't been this ballsy in a long time, must be between subs.

Tony stood and stretched. It was late, but his fingers were restless. He left his office and went downstairs, stroking the wood of his baby grand piano that took up almost half of his living room. He sat down and began to play.


	12. Monday 1900-2

Jethro cursed and slammed his hand against the wall. He didn't know what he expected of this kid, but _this?_ This was bullshit. He'd dealt with hard labor pretty much his whole time in chains. He could handle lifting beams, laying bricks, demolition. He could deal with sadistic dirt bag overlords with whips. Hell, the only reason he'd been kicked out of the first house was for sleeping with the owner’s daughter. Damn Diane. He’d hoped she would actually fall for him, instead of turning a 180 and claiming he tricked her into bed. He got plenty of lashes for that one. But this being chained, bare-assed, to a bed in someone's basement? That sounded way too much like a concubine to him. He’d been prepared to bite that geeky kid’s dick off if he came close.

But he didn't. He tried to logically evaluate his situation as he pulled the pants up his free leg and buttoned the side of his chained one. He could easily reach the head, the small fridge, and a short desk which had papers and paints/inks and foam pens inside. There was a sink with a cabinet, and he could just barely get into the shower. Aside from his rather embarrassing reaction to having his ass paddled like a petulant child, nothing sexual had been attempted, as much as he could see the desire in that “master Tim”s eyes. If he was gonna be chained to a bed half naked, but not a pleasure slave, then what the hell was he doing here? Maybe DiNozzo wasn't interested in him, but planned on bringing friends over?

Jethro’s mind was spinning all kinds of possible scenarios when he heard a creaking above him. He listened closely, trying to determine whether the man was coming downstairs or not. When he heard the creak of a bench, he relaxed. And when the music began floating down through the floorboards, he blinked rapidly. Was this guy singing...showtunes? He listened again. He didn't know the song, but his voice was... beautiful.

> _The trouble with schools is_  
>  _They always try to teach the wrong lesson_  
>  _Believe me, I've been kicked out_  
>  _Of enough of them to know_  
>  _They want you to become less callow_  
>  _Less shallow_  
>  _But I say: why invite stress in?_  
>  _Stop studying strife_  
>  _And learn to live "the unexamined life"..._

Jethro didn't like taking pleasure in the musings of his 'owner’, but he couldn't help it. His only consolation was that nobody was around to witness.

> _Dancing through life_  
>  _Skimming the surface_  
>  _Gliding where turf is smooth_  
>  _Life's more painless_  
>  _For the brainless_  
>  _Why think too hard?_  
>  _When it's so soothing_  
>  _Dancing through life_  
>  _No need to tough it_  
>  _When you can sluff it off as I do_  
>  _Nothing matters_  
>  _But knowing nothing matters_  
>  _It's just life_  
>  _So keep dancing through..._

But this guy wasn't brainless. He knew exactly what he was doing when he chose Jethro, and obviously knew enough to keep a Taser with him and keep a razor out of his hand.

> _Dancing through life_  
>  _Swaying and sweeping_  
>  _And always keeping cool_  
>  _Life is fraught less_  
>  _When you're thoughtless_  
>  _Those who don't try_  
>  _Never look foolish_  
>  _Dancing through life_  
>  _Mindless and careless_  
>  _Make sure you're where less_  
>  _Trouble is rife_  
>  _Woes are fleeting_  
>  _Blows are glancing_  
>  _When you're dancing_  
>  _Through life…_

As much as he hated to think it, the kid wasn't thoughtless or careless either. Now Jethro was getting pissed that he was putting so much heart into this stupid song. And pissed at himself for thinking about this. 

He rolled over and covered his ears for the rest. No way was he going to be persuaded to see his owner as a person. The one who has him chained in the basement. Hell, even dogs have protections against treatment like this.

* * *

Tony kept singing. He didn't even think about the fact that the music could be heard beneath him--nobody he'd known had ever heard him sing, and very few had heard him play. It never crossed his mind.

> _Dancing Through Life_  
>  _Down at the Ozdust..._  
>  _If only because dust_  
>  _Is what we come to_  
>  _Nothing matters_  
>  _But knowing nothing matters_  
>  _It's just life..._  
>  _So keep dancing through…_

He stopped when his hands were shaking. He’d tried since high school to keep up that persona, the thoughtless prankster, the brainless joker. The director had seen through it, and now he had his own team, one of the best in the agency, and his masks were thinner, transparent to anyone who really knew him. But now, with this slave, he had to pull on another mask, and he longed for the joker, the frat boy. Anything besides 'owner'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a video of this song in its entirety, copy and paste this link:
> 
> https://youtu.be/o3zH5wIlMTk


	13. Tuesday 0600

Jethro opened his eyes to the smell of coffee. He inhaled deeply, he hadn't had coffee in a very long time. He shook his head, reminding himself that owners had coffee, not slaves. He stood and relieved himself, then washed his hands and face. He felt scruffy, not having shaved for several days. He wasn't looking forward to letting this kid do it for him. Maybe he could get used to the mountain man look?

Then the door opened. Jethro stood up straight, but wouldn't sit. He wasn't going to challenge Agent DiNozzo, but he wouldn't voluntarily put himself into a kneeling or lower position either.

“Have a seat,” Tony motioned to the desk and chair as he opened a folding chair for himself. Jethro only made his way across the room after DiNozzo sat, eyebrows raised. He sat, still maintaining his tense posture. “Eat. I brought cream and sugar down for your coffee if you want.” Jethro flinched and Tony chuckled. “Marine black, right?”

Jethro glanced at the tray on the desk. Scrambled eggs, sausage, English muffin, and fruit. And coffee. He looked at DiNozzo, then back at the tray. Tony held a second plate in his hand, slung his feet onto Jethro's bed, and smiled at him. “What? You have something to say, go ahead.”

“Which is mine?”

“Whatever you want. I've got mine, so that's yours. I'm not gonna say you have to eat it all, but you do have to eat something. Anything else?”

“Coffee?” Jethro kept his speech to a minimum. He’d learned that years ago.

“Yeah. I figure if I can't live without it, you should be entitled if you want.”

“Why?” Jethro bit his tongue. This is why he preferred being out in the fields or on construction. Usually his mouth didn't get his ass in trouble there. Tony noted the clenched jaw as he answered.

“Just because your legal status is different from mine doesn't mean you don't have the same needs. Food being the biggest one. Caffeine is a close second for me. Now answer me this:” He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned toward Jethro. “Why did you flinch just now?” He knew the answer, but wanted to hear it.

“I was out of turn.” Jethro was close enough to spit on DiNozzo, but so far he’d done nothing overtly wrong. He kept his cool, even though it made his stomach churn to confess to a minor indiscretion like a child. He’d rather be backhanded and leave it at that.

“Jethro. Look at me.” Tony waited as Jethro thought about the order. “I'm serious.”

Jethro turned his head and tried to keep his expression neutral as his eyes met the green ones of his owner. “We were having a conversation. If I have invited you to speak and we are talking in a civil manner, you may speak fairly freely and ask questions. That is part of speaking when spoken to. My attention was on you, it was a mutual conversation, therefore it is allowed.” Tony patted his shoulder, signaling an end to their little powwow, leaned back on his chair again, and went back to his breakfast. “Eggs are getting cold.” Jethro blinked and reached for the plate and plastic fork. He didn't like being kept off balance like this. First the kid was a hardass stickler for the rules, now he's carrying on a conversation like they're friends.

Tony saw his cogs spinning. He ate his meal in silence, just watching Jethro contemplate his situation. Tony had been a bit more himself this morning, and the change in mood between last night and this morning was intended to throw him off the [righteous] anger bandwagon. He wasn't going to let up on the rules, but Jethro needed to see that he _did_ see him as a person. And the more Tony mixed up his moods, but remained consistent in the rules, he hoped Jethro would adapt to obedience, and eventually maybe respect and...if possible...trust.

A grin pulled at the corner of Tony's mouth as the man savored the fresh fruit and dark black coffee. He didn't smile, but Tony could tell he enjoyed it.

When their plates were clean, Tony handed his to Jethro. The silverware was disposable, but the plates were not. Jethro’s eyes went wide as he realized what Tony was doing. He paused. He wasn't a fucking domestic. But he decided to pick his battles. A couple of plates and mugs weren't worth it. He did, however, shoot DiNozzo a glare as he took the plates. Unfortunately, that glare met DiNozzo’s as he rose. Jethro swallowed and turned to the sink. He heard the younger man behind him as he washed, and when he finished, he turned around and saw black straps in his hands.

“You have an issue with cleaning up after us when I was kind enough to make the meal?”

Jethro shook his head, but Tony continued. “Your glare said otherwise. If you cannot keep from making eye contact, especially confrontational contact, you'll be blindfolded to prevent it entirely.” He spun Jethro and expertly lashed his arms together behind his back, then pulled the second cloth over his eyes. Jethro tested the strength of the wide cloth ties and met firm resistance. “I have to restrain you for shaving anyway, so this works too. I'll be back. If I find this fabric shifted in any way, you'll extend your punishment.”

Tony turned and left his slave standing in the center of the room, blindfolded and starting to fume again.


	14. Tuesday 0730

_Ugghhh._ Tony was REALLY hoping he’d make it through the morning. He knew the whole dishes thing would push some buttons, and maybe it was wishful thinking that Jethro wouldn't object, but he couldn't tiptoe around his manly sensitivities. He didn't take long, readying his necessities and heading back down the basement stairs.

Jethro stood where he’d been left, head high, but he hadn't touched the blindfold. Tony filled a bowl with warm water, brought the folding chair to the sink, and steered Jethro to sit. He wasn't relaxed about it, but he sat. Tony carefully prepared his cheeks and chin, making sure he got a good lather before clicking the cover off the new razor. He finished one cheek, but when he reached Jethro's throat, Jethro turned his head, almost _trying_ to get Tony to cut him. “It’s a safety razor. Not gonna cut you open accidentally.” Jethro didn't respond, but pushed again as the razor slid across the top of his Adam's apple. Tony sighed. “One more time and I won't stop at your neck.” Jethro purposely moved again, and Tony set the razor down. “Fine.”

Jethro froze. He’d wanted to test DiNozzo's reaction, and although he could feel the man still with him, his ability to track him without useful vision was pretty much shot after 15 years. It out him on edge. Suddenly, he felt his knees being pushed apart. _Shit_ . He didn't think he’d do _that_. DiNozzo's hands were fumbling with the fabric in his lap, and he heard a rip. Suddenly, his shirt was torn in half, and DiNozzo leaned toward him. “now you've got 4 shirts.” Jethro breathed a sigh of relief. Shirt was better than pants.

Jethro stayed still as he felt the large hands creating a lather across the curls of his chest. This was ridiculous. And soon it was a reality. When he felt those hands running a dry towel across his face, neck, and now smooth chest, he felt the heat rise to his ears. “Smooth as a baby's bottom.” Tony lightly smacked a hand to his chest, then released his blindfold. “Next time, stay still. You should probably shower. I left some lotion on the sink for after.” He released his arms and rolled the cloths together, tucking them under his arm. Jethro looked down at his slightly damp skin and gaped. His greying hair was gone, leaving his skin and scars exposed. As soon as DiNozzo turned to head up the stairs, Jethro pulled a clean shirt from his shelf and donned it, feeling a bit better. This kid was really getting under his skin. And the worst part was...he knew it.


	15. Tuesday 0930

 

_“DiNozzo, why am I looking at you on my computer screen instead of in my office?”_

Vance’s face looked naked without...oh, wait, never mind. He picked up a toothpick from off screen. “I had a family issue. I need a couple of weeks, Boss.” 

Vance sighed. _“Yeah, Agent McGee gave me a brief sitrep when you were about 2 minutes late.”_

 _“Sorry Boss. You're never late, he twisted my arm.”_ McGee's face came into the screen over Vance’s shoulder.

Tony contained his smile--no way would the Tim he knew be bullied by someone like Toothpick. “It's alright McGee. Look, Director, fact is, I've got a slave. He could be good, _really_ good, for NCIS. But I need some time with him to make sure he’s up for it before we file the papers.”

Vance nodded, toothpick spinning from side to side. _“You've got 2 weeks, DiNozzo. In the meantime, McGee and Todd will work with Balboa.”_

“Awe, Timmy, you cheating on me?”

McGee snorted, _“never Boss.”_

Vance rolled his eyes, _“I wanna see papers in a week, and interview him in two. I'll make my decision then. Stay out of trouble, DiNozzo.”_

*End Call* 

 _Two weeks. Two weeks._ Tony hung his head and tried not to get too frustrated. He needed another peace offering. 

*****

It was almost lunch time. Tony opened the fridge and pulled out the lunch meat, cheese, vegetables, and all kinds of sub fixings. He arranged it all on a plate, grabbed the bag of rolls, a bag of chips, and the shopping bags with the iced tea and his 'peace offering.’

“Lunch!” He called down. He found Jethro...under the sink? His suspicions grew when the man continued whatever he was doing, instead of greeting him.

“Jethro, out here.” At the direct order, Jethro stopped, wiped his hands on the towel he pulled from the sink above him, and stood closer to Tony, shirtless. “What were you doing?”

“Fixing a leak. The dripping was getting to me.”

Tony had to choose. Take his word for it and get to lunch, or check it out.

Tony took his chances. He'd investigate later. “Ok, thanks. I'm not quite the handy type. Brought sandwich stuff for lunch, have a seat.”

It was a replay of breakfast. Tony sat, gestured for Jethro to sit, Jethro sat, and stared at the food. This time, Tony leaned close to Jethro and started making himself a sandwich. He handed Jethro a roll, and motioned toward the cold cuts. Jethro made himself a sandwich without a word. 

When they finished, Tony wrapped up the leftover fixings and brought them upstairs to the kitchen. When he came back downstairs, the plates were drying in the sink.

“Jethro, until I've got more for you to do, unless you've found more things you can fix without tools, I brought you some books and stuff. You play cards?”

Jethro nodded, keeping his eyes on DiNozzo's hands. He still couldn't figure this guy out. DiNozzo dealt the cards, Jethro started to say something, but thought better of it.

“5 card draw, jokers wild. And don't worry about beating me, that's the fun of the game.” He smiled. Poker wasn't as fun with 2 people, but it sure as hell beat a damn dripping sink. Jethro actually settled back onto his bed and won a few hands. He even briefly forgot the chain around his ankle. It was a nice afternoon, relatively speaking. Around 4, DiNozzo's phone rang.

“DiNozzo.” He answered.

_“Hey, Boss, just checking in. How are things?”_

“Good Tim. Playing some poker, wanna join?” Jethro was suddenly acutely aware of his predicament. DiNozzo could bring his friend over whenever he wanted. This could all be some kind of attempt to catch him off guard.

_“No, thanks, I got reports to write. But I sent you something. Check your email.”_

“Ok, thanks probie.” Tony hung up and turned to Jethro. “Gotta go, but I'll bring back dinner. Chinese sound good?”

Jethro grabbed a book, holding it at arm's length and squinting, and nodded.

*****

 _A storage unit_ . His slave had not only planned the killing in Mexico, but apparently had a contingency plan in case of capture. He’d sold his home, and purchased a storage unit under an alias. Well, more like his namesake. LJ was a friend of his father's, from what Tony could gather, and Jethro had taken a storage unit in his name before leaving for Mexico. A BIG storage unit. LJ had paid in cash, monthly, for 15 years. _That's where the money from the house went_ , Tony guessed. He added LJ Moore to his list of people to call, probably before Franks.

Jethro had always planned to escape. His storage unit was definitely big enough for a vehicle. 15 years was a long time to wait, but Tony was guessing he still had a plan.

 


	16. Wednesday, 0630

Tony  heard the water below him turn off. He waited another 15 minutes before bringing the takeout containers downstairs, shaving supplies in a bowl under his arm.

“Breakfast!”

Jethro, again, wouldn't sit right away. Tony put the styrofoam containers on the desk and went right to the sink. “Let's do this first.” He held up one of the ties from the day before. Jethro tensed, but Tony dropped his hands. “Just to keep you from slitting my throat. Not a punishment.” Jethro sat and let Tony tie his hands to the chair, but it wasn't nearly as tight as the day before. He quietly huffed in amusement.

“What's that for?” Tony asked as he wet Jethro's cheek.

“Not very effective.”

Tony smiled. “I just need to slow you down, not necessarily stop you. If you want to do something stupid, go right ahead.”

Jethro thought about it, but looking at the razor, it wasn't worth the effort. He waited while the younger man deftly cleared his face of the half grey stubble that had collected overnight.

“Done. Now, I ordered out this morning, so I'm hoping you like pancakes.”

The day continued much like the one before, with no major incidents, and Tony asked if he’d like a TV with some movies. Jethro was already through 2 of the 10 books Tony had brought, but he declined. “You've got to be bored. I've got things that need to be done, but it’s only been a few days...what would YOU like to do?”

“I used to carve things. Wood, mostly.”

Tony chuckled, “so you want a knife so you can make a stake for my heart? No thanks. But let me think about it. Look, I gotta make some calls. There's leftover Chinese for lunch, I'll be back soon.”

*****

_“Hello?”_

“Hello, Mr. Moore?”

_“Speaking.”_

“Hi, my name is Agent Anthony DiNozzo. I'm calling about Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Do you know him?”

_“I should hope so. The kid was named after me. Unfortunately, you're about a decade and a half too late. Buried him next to his wife and daughter.”_

Tony took a deep breath. “Sir, if that were true, you wouldn't be paying for his storage unit.”

_*Silence*_

“Look, I'm not looking to take his things. I just wanted a little more information.”

_“Why are the feds looking into him? He get out? Prison doesn't suit him. He’s a Marine, you know.”_

“Sir, he never went to prison. I'd hoped to speak to his father first, but...he was sentenced to life in slavery. Spent 15 years on hard labor.”

_“My Leroy? My Ann’s boy? A slave!?”_

“Yeah. And I'm doing what I can, but I need your help.”

_“How do I know I can trust you?”_

“I don't know, Sir. But I'd like to try.”

_“Talk. Then I'll decide.”_

_*****_

“Hey, I went to the store. It's a little different from wood, but it might help.” Tony tossed a bag of supplies onto the bed, and Jethro eyed it suspiciously. “Jesus, it's not gonna bite.”

Jethro grabbed the bag and dumped it onto the bed. Clay, with hard rubber tools. He tested the tips, finding them resistant but not nearly as damaging as woodworking tools may have been. _Damn_. Then again, this guy wasn't stupid.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Now, I made pasta, I hope you like tortellini.” Tony settled the plates onto the desk, pulling out his chair as usual. Jethro ate in silence, trying to think about the best way to manipulate this situation to his advantage. His 'owner' was relaxing, but not letting down his guard. He hadn't found a real weak spot yet, besides pissing him off, which didn't seem to make him as sloppy or careless as he'd hoped. Other owners would snap in anger. He actually preferred that, even if it left scars, because it meant they were sloppy and he might have a chance of escape. Here, however, the guy seemed to know more about channeling and controlling a situation. So intentionally pissing him off wouldn't work. He'd have to find another way.

*****

That night, the sounds of the piano drifted down to Jethro again. This time, he listened. It seemed his owner didn't know he was listening, so maybe he could learn something useful.

> _Give 'em the old razzle dazzle_  
>  _Razzle Dazzle 'em_  
>  _Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it_  
>  _And the reaction will be passionate_  
>  _Give 'em the old hocus pocus_  
>  _Bead and feather 'em_  
>  _How can they see with sequins in their eyes?_  
>  _What if your hinges all are rusting?_  
>  _What if, in fact, you're just disgusting?_  
>  _Razzle dazzle 'em_  
>  _And they;ll never catch wise!_

Jethro was sensing a theme. For all the smug confidence this guy exuded, it was all an act. He thought he was alone in his thoughts, and _this_ is what he chose? Definitely a weak spot.

> _Give 'em the old flim flam flummox_  
>  _Fool and fracture 'em_  
>  _How can they hear the truth above the roar?_  
>  _Throw 'em a fake and a finagle_  
>  _They'll never know you're just a bagel,_  
>  _Razzle dazzle 'em_  
>  _And they'll beg you for more!_

Jethro thought back to how he'd talked to him at first, how his prick of a father had talked to him, and how he’d reacted. Whatever face he put up for Jethro, for his father, he didn't like it. He felt... _bad._ Guilt was something Jethro could use.

> _Give 'em the old three ring circus_  
>  _Stun and stagger 'em_  
>  _When you're in trouble, go into your dance_  
>  _Though you are stiffer than a girder_  
>  _They'll let you get away with murder_  
>  _Razzle dazzle 'em_  
>  _And you've got a romance_  
>  _Show 'em the first rate sorcerer you are_  
>  _Long as you keep 'em way off balance_  
>  _How can they spot you've got no talents?_  
>  _Razzle Dazzle 'em_  
>  _And they'll make you a star!_

Guilt. _That_ was his angle. It just might work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a replay of the song, go to 1:45 of this video:
> 
> https://youtu.be/tey8KSfhUjM
> 
> I feel like Tony uses music as an outlet, but we never see it on the show. I picture him with an amazing voice that he hides along with his real personality behind all his masks.


	17. Friday 0500

Jethro stood in the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, feet shoulder width apart. His shirt was on the floor, and Tony stroked the still smooth skin of his chest. Jethro's blue eyes sought Tony's, and he gasped when he saw the blown pupils of desire. When Tony's breath caught, Jethro made his move, hand curling around the back of his neck and pulling Tony into a heated kiss. Tony's hand slid down Jethro's back to his ass, and he smiled when Jethro moaned at his touch. Jethro thrust his hips forward, pushing their erections together, and--

 _Shit!_ Tony woke with a start. _Great. Just great._ His cock was rock hard in his hand, poking through his boxers. He figured it would be better to just take care of it, and examine his desires later. He slid his boxers down under his balls and started stroking himself, letting his thoughts wander, when he heard a crash from the basement.

 _Double shit._ He leapt out of bed and hauled ass to the basement. There he found Jethro, conscious, but disoriented, on the floor with the shower running. Tony turned off the water and offered a hand to the naked man beneath him. Jethro ignored his offer and stood, favoring the leg he was chained with.

“On the bed.” Tony told him. Jethro sat, and Tony forgot everything McGee had told him about being consistent and firm and definitely _not_ soft and mushy. Tony gently took Jethro's shackled ankle in his hand and saw the blood and swelling. If this was an escape attempt it was a fairly crappy one. He quickly transferred the cuff to the other ankle, _really_ hoping he wasn't going to be killed in the process, but Jethro remained still, arms folded, glaring at nothing.

“I'll be right back.” Tony stood and tried to hide the erection he still sported, but it was rather difficult to do in silk boxers. When he returned, he cleaned the area on Jethro's ankle where the shackle had cut into him. He bandaged it and took this advantage to check on the brand. He hadn't seen it unbandaged since he’d done it, and he tried to check it objectively. The skin was healing, no signs of infection, and the letters...his stomach turned again. He stood slowly, unsure of what to do. Jethro glanced at him and swallowed hard, turning his head from the almost naked man before him.

“You have something to say, go ahead.” Tony said.

Jethro tried to keep the snarl from his voice, “I assume you want that taken care of.” He gestured at Tony's now fading erection.

Tony turned and tossed Jethro a clean set of clothes, “No, I have a hand for that. It's early, Jethro. Biology.”

Jethro didn't reply as the younger man climbed the stairs. He was uncomfortable and awkward when Jethro had pointed out what was painfully obvious. He’d expected some kind of punishment for causing himself injury, but instead, DiNozzo was flustered. If all he had to do was hurt himself and flirt a little to make this guy freak out, maybe, just maybe, it could work to his advantage too. He'd been toeing the line for a few days, playing the obedient but betrayed slave, and for the first time, his owner's guard went down.

*****

“Tony, it’s the crack of dawn, why did you call and demand to see me?” Tim wasn't happy.

Tony handed him a cup of coffee and plopped onto one of the chairs at his table. “I'm not doing this anymore, Tim. I'm not this person. I can't _be_ consistent and firm and all that owner psychology bullshit you made me read.”

McGee sighed. “Tony, I get it.” His friend was stressed, and it had been less than a week. He put a hand on his arm for support. “What do you need from me? Do you want me to take over?”

Tony shook his head. “No, Tim. I want this over. This fake bullshit. I'm letting him go.”

Tim gripped him by the shoulders. “Tony, think about that. He’ll be put down, and you'll be brought up on charges. Even if you're acquitted, you won't work law enforcement again. _He_ doesn't want to die, why do that to both of you?”

Tony pulled away, “it's better than living in someone's basement like a prisoner.”

McGee rubbed his forehead. “Tony, it hasn't even been a week! He’s gonna settle in, then it'll get easier.”

“For who?!” Tony shouted. “I'm NOT this person! This isn't an undercover op, Tim, it’s his fucking life!”

“And it's yours too!” McGee matched Tony, movement for movement. “I won't let you throw your life away just because you don't know what to do.”

In the midst of their yelling, neither man heard the *thunk* from the basement as Jethro finally broke the one weaker link of the chain around his ankle. Jethro grinned and replaced the small piece of broken pipe back under the sink.


	18. Saturday+1 0930

Tony brought Jethro a breakfast sandwich, while he carried the box of Cap’n crunch under his arm. He decided to shave Jethro without restraints, as a test. It had been several days since they'd had any issues.

When Jethro realized Tony wasn't going to restrain him, he thought fast. Was it time? He checked the cracked link--it looked normal, but he knew it wouldn't hold. Was the razor worth it? _No_. One more nail in the coffin. He sat and held his wrists out, keeping his eyes down.

“Not today, Jethro. I'll take a chance here.”

“Are you sure, sir?” The words felt like bile in his throat, but it had the desired effect. He got no response.

Tony sighed and simply lathered Jethro's skin. He completed his task and sat down, turning his back to Jethro. Quickly, he realized his mistake and turned and captured the man's arm as he started toward him.

“Very good, Jethro. Very good.” He had spun Jethro around, curling his arm behind his back with his own momentum. Jethro was wound tight, but didn't respond. “Believe me, I wouldn't look forward to grappling with you. I've taken down a few Marines in my time, and you're all good. But you're out of practice. It might not be easy, but I'd bet on myself in that match. Now, since I just stopped you from doing something very stupid, I'm gonna say that nothing actually happened, and we're gonna move on. We're going to eat, and then I'm going back upstairs. Agreed?”

Jethro nodded, and Tony released him. True to his word, they ate in silence. Well, relative silence. The crunching of Tony's cereal was driving Jethro nuts. Thankfully, he finished and left without a word.

*****

Tim rolled over and felt Tony sitting on the side of the bed. He thought back to the night before, but sighed in relief that they hadn't done anything. He'd had his eye on this cute little redhead named Delilah. She was fiery, definitely his kind of sub. He didn't want to mess that up for a roll in the hay with his boss. “What’s up? What happened?”

“McGee, get dressed. I need you to visit this guy for me. I'm not leaving here, not yet.” Tony passed Tim the address for an LJ Moore.

“Why? Can't you just call him?” Tim squinted his eyes at Tony, but groaned when he saw the puppy dog eyes. Tim may have been able to make Tony do what he wanted, but Tony certainly had his ways of manipulating Tim too. “Damnit, fine. But if this takes too long and I miss my date at the club, _you're_ getting the paddling.”

“I wouldn't complain.” Tony winked and McGee rolled his eyes. “Thanks Tim.”

Tony was glad McGee had come over after work yesterday. Before Tim, he'd had a tendency to get overwhelmed and fly off the handle in some way or another, but since their relationship, Tim had always known when Tony was at that breaking point. They'd sat together watching movies, Tony relaxing on the floor with his bowl of popcorn, Tim on the couch petting his hair until Tony drifted off to sleep against his knee.

*****

Jethro paced, thinking this through. It had been a week. He didn't want to kill the kid, but he couldn't do this anymore. His last owners just put him to work. Work was fine. Sitting here like a _pet_ wasn't in his DNA. This was it. Tonight. Tonight when Mr. Broadway was singing his sappy music crap, he’d get out.


	19. Saturday+1 2030

"Hey McGee, how did it go? I know he wanted to meet me, did he seem OK?"

_“Boss, he's gonna talk to Jethro's father. Said he won't tell him everything, just that he’s been found. I guess they haven't really talked in a while, so he wanted to be the one to tell him.”_

Jethro had been reported as missing, then declared dead and an empty casket buried next to his wife and daughter. Tony really hoped this wouldn't give the guy a heart attack. “Thanks Tim. I owe you.”

_“You sure as hell do. I'm gonna be almost an hour late for my date.”_

Tony could tell Tim wanted to do more than snarl over the phone at him. “Sorry man. Seriously, I'll make it up to you.”

_“You better. I'll talk to you tomorrow about the rest.”_

Tony hung up the phone and sat at the piano. He'd never needed this much musical therapy. But he was finally getting somewhere with Jethro, he hoped, and was hoping they'd get to a point where they could really talk. It still felt wrong to listen to everyone else on this, but it was working. Maybe his gut was wrong this time.

He let his fingers fall onto the keys, improvising a melody and chords until the song came to him.

> _To dream the impossible dream_  
>  _To fight the unbeatable foe_  
>  _To bear with unbearable sorrow_  
>  _To run where the brave dare not go_  
>  _To right the unrightable wrong_  
>  _To love pure and chaste from afar_  
>  _To try when your arms are too weary_  
>  _To reach the unreachable star_

Jethro heard the quiet plinking of a melody above him. He grabbed the bag he had prepared and grasped the cracked link. Waiting to hear his voice, so he would be paying less attention, Jethro finally gave the chain a good yank, just like last time, and pulled himself free. For now, he tucked the long chain into the side of his pants, so he wouldn't trip. Tony's voice grew louder as he silently ascended the stairs.

> _This is my quest_  
>  _To follow that star_  
>  _No matter how hopeless_  
>  _No matter how far_  
>  _To fight for the right_  
>  _Without question or pause_  
>  _To be willing to march into Hell_  
>  _For a heavenly cause_

Jethro clenched his jaw when he saw that, in order to go either to the kitchen, which may have a back door, or out the front, he would have to pass DiNozzo. He was thoroughly engrossed in his song, but Jethro wasn't going to take anything for granted. Instead of focusing on escape, he focused on DiNozzo. He'd have to neutralize the threat.

> _And I know if I'll only be true_  
>  _To this glorious quest_  
>  _That my heart will lie peaceful and calm_  
>  _When I'm laid to my rest_  
>  _And the world will be better for this_  
>  _That one man, scorned and covered with scars_  
>  _Still strove with his last ounce of courage_  
>  _To reach the unreachable star_

As Tony's voice held the final note, Jethro snuck behind him and sprung. He wrapped his bicep around DiNozzo's throat and squeezed. The green eyes went wide in realization, as he tried to fight back, but Jethro had the advantage and he knew it. Quickly, the younger man's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed onto the piano with a clatter of clashing keys. “Just something to help you sleep.” Jethro smiled. He grabbed some knives from the kitchen, then found the back door.

*****

Tony groaned and coughed as he regained consciousness. “Fuck!” He sputtered. He grabbed his coat, opened the safe and grabbed his gun and badge, and ran to his car, already bringing up the tracker app on his phone.

Thankfully, it looked like Jethro hadn't gotten far. He’d stopped in a wooded area about 2 miles away. Tony quietly stopped the car, grateful for once that he’d gotten a hybrid, and slipped toward the signal. As he watched the blinking blip get closer, he heard rustling beside him. He paused and dropped into a crouch...it wasn't Jethro, and it definitely wasn't an animal. He heard at least two distinctive whispers, and assumed they were giving orders to a third. He couldn't make out much, but when he heard the word “slave,” he knew what they were after. He wasn't the only one with access to Jethro's tracking chip.

Then they moved in. Tony bolted toward their target as well, knowing exactly where they were headed, and tackled one of them to the ground, slamming his face into the dirt hard enough to at least render him unconscious. Whether he was dead or not, Tony didn't care. He raced to where he saw Jethro slip into the bushes, then felt his feet go out from under him as Jethro slammed into his knees, rugby style. “You idiot,” he gasped, “they're gonna kill you.”

Jethro growled and tried to pin him until they heard the click of a cocked semiautomatic rifle. Tony zeroed on its location and brought his arm toward the barrel to deflect it, but unfortunately the man pulled the trigger at the same time. Jethro leapt from his position and grabbed the gun, pointing it at its previous owner. His eyes flitted between the bleeding man who had saved him, the one who had shot him, and the bushes which could have lead to freedom.

Tony held up his uninjured arm, palm up, then looked Jethro in the eyes. “There's three,” he hissed, just as the third man came from behind Jethro and tackled him. Tony grabbed the rifle, hit the downed assailant in the face, and fired three shots into a nearby tree. “release him.” He snarled at the man, clad in tactical gear and choking Jethro.

Just as Jethro's world went black, he saw DiNozzo push the man onto his stomach and expertly tie his hands behind his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a video of tbe song:  
> https://youtu.be/ntU46kTlfzA


	20. Sunday+1 0230

Jethro kept his eyes closed and his body still as he felt his senses return. He honed on the hushed voices coming from somewhere close by.

“Just go. I'll be fine, Duck. I want to talk to him when he wakes up, so no, I'm not going.”

“Anthony, you've been shot, you need to be evaluated.”

“You checked it out, stitched me up, it's a through and through, I've got a sling. I'll find someone when I'm done here. Out. Tell Tim to keep his visitors company until I'm ready. Please.”

Jethro evaluated his physical condition. Nothing hurt _that_ badly, his left ankle was chained to the bed, reminiscent of his bed in the basement, but this was not the basement. He cracked his eyes open to survey his surroundings... hospital. He saw DiNozzo, still wearing the sweatpants he'd last seen him in, but with a hospital scrub top, cross his field of vision and sit in the chair nearest his bed with a wince. His arm was in a sling, blood and dirt still smeared across his face.

“I know you're awake.” He said, as he settled back into the chair. Jethro sighed and opened his eyes. He tried to run his hand through his hair but gasped at the pain. Then he remembered. “You made a valiant effort to remove that chip, I'll give you that.” The slave tracking chips were implanted behind the ear, just under the plate of the skull. Only a surgeon could safely remove them, but Jethro had tried and might have succeeded. How he did it without passing out from the pain, nobody knew, but he certainly had an impressive line of stitches now, covered in thick gauze.

“Why?” Jethro asked.

“Because you had a plan that did not involve getting killed by my father's goons. You didn't kill me, but you could've. You want freedom, I understand it. Lots of reasons.” Tony closed his eyes in exhaustion. “I put my reports on your stand there. You pick which one I file.”

Jethro swallowed and looked at the three folders on his nightstand. He reached for the stack and realized he had his hands free. “Um…”  but instead of continuing and pushing his luck, he stopped.

Tony waved, not opening his eyes. “Go ahead, no more rules, I'm too tired.”

“No chains? Hospital policy…”

Tony smiled, “federal agents have some pull. I conceded to one cuff, but figured it would be a bit more dignified if you could hide it. You've got visitors.”

Jethro looked up, “visitors?”

Tony opened his eyes. “Yeah. Didn't intend on dropping this on you so soon, but we found your dad. Mexico doesn't have the same rules about notifying family upon sentencing, so he reported you missing. After a few years, you were assumed dead. Tim met with LJ, who talked to your dad, and he insisted on driving to DC right away. All he knows is that you were found.”

Jethro closed his eyes and felt panic and anger rise in his throat. He didn't want his father to see him like this. He’d rather be dead to him than a slave, chained to another man. “Tell him to leave. Tell him you're putting me down. After this stunt, that's protocol anyway.”

“No. Because whether you're put down is up to you, and you're not making that decision until he sees you. Tim said he sees where you got your stubbornness.”

“Fine. Let him in.”

Tony went to the door and nodded at Tim. Almost immediately, two surprisingly spry senior citizens rushed down the hall. “Agent DiNozzo?” The shorter white haired man asked. Tony nodded and let out a pained “oomph” as he was pulled down into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you for finding my boy.” And just as quickly, he was pushed out of the way as Jackson Gibbs opened the door. Tony stood outside for a few seconds with the darker skinned man, nodding at each other.

“LJ?” Tony asked.

“Yessir. Agent DiNozzo?”

“In the flesh. Call me Tony.”

“Tony, I'll admit, I was still hesitant on bringing this up here,” he motioned toward something he held under his arm, “but when I heard you took a bullet for Leroy? I'm gonna trust you won't be messing with this.”

Tony nodded. “Thanks. I'll talk to him about what else he might want, but he should have at least something of his own, and if I'd gone there, I wouldn't have had a clue what to choose.”

The nurse behind them coughed and gave him a dirty look. Tony had agreed to stay in the room to ‘supervise’ his slave if they agreed to leave his wrists free. He put a hand on LJ’s shoulder, then quietly slipped into the room, making sure he didn't interrupt the scene before him. All he could see was Jackson's wide back hunched over the bed, wrapping his son in an embrace, and Jethro's hands clenching the back of his shirt. Neither moved for a long moment, until Jackson whispered. “I thought you were gone, son. I thought I lost it all. Whatever I've done, whatever I've said, I take it back. Let me take it back. Please.” Tony turned to face the corner, trying to think of things that would distract him from whatever Jethro's response would be.

Finally, he settled on thoughts of sex… It always worked. The round little blonde he'd had the pleasure of bringing home a few months ago? He was replaying the events of the evening when he heard Jackson shout, “what the hell?” Shaking his head, he turned and saw Jackson pushing Jethro's hair aside to inspect the bandage behind his ear. He took a few steps closer, in case the man wanted answers Jethro wasn't ready to give.

“Leroy, what the hell happened to you? What is this? They said those kidnappers only choked you out.”

“I did that, Dad. Used a knife.” Jethro swallowed hard, pulling his chin from his father's grasp.

“Why the hell would you cut into your own…” suddenly his eyes reeled in shock. “No….No….Not my boy.”

Jethro nodded, “yeah, Dad. 15 years ago.”

Jackson started yelling and throwing his hands on the air, until he realized Tony was behind him. Then his anger was focused. “You! You knew! You didn't tell me! You son of a bitch!” He threw himself at Tony, Jethro tried to follow close behind, not sure how Tony would react, but he was still cuffed to the bed. Tony just pulled the man close, limiting the effect of his blows on his chest. When Jackson finally calmed down, Tony guided him to the chair he had occupied earlier.

“Yes sir, I knew. In fact…” he took a breath, “my father sold him to me.”

“I'll buy him. Whatever it takes. Or I'll give LJ the money, since family can't buy their own. I've got a pension, just let me bring my boy home, please.”

 _Crap._ Tony had hoped the whole branding thing wouldn't come up.

“Dad, you can't afford that. Even if he does it for pennies, there are filing fees and rules and regulations, and I can't put that on you.” Tony was surprised, but let Jethro continue. “Dad, he's good, ok? He wouldn't have called you if he wasn't gonna let us see each other. I'm ok.”

Jackson continued negotiating, but Jethro declined. After a long and valiant effort, Jackson slumped in the chair. He looked at Tony through narrowed eyes, “if I find out you've hurt my boy, I will find a way to end you.”

Tony nodded. “I don't doubt it, sir.” He looked at Jethro, who looked more tired and broken than he’d seen yet.

Then he heard a *ehem* behind him. LJ had stepped forward into the room. “Hey there Leroy. I grabbed something from your unit. Figured you might like it.” In his hand was a small box that rattled slightly as he passed it to Jethro.

Jethro ran his fingers across the top and the latch, before setting it aside. “Thank you.” He knew exactly what was inside, but he wasn't ready for that yet.

There came a knock on the door, and a nurse, one of the nice ones, peeked in. “Guys, I'm really sorry, but it's technically not visiting hours yet… We were flexible, but we really have to ask you to leave until 8am.”

Jackson started cursing and arguing until LJ calmed him down. They left, with promises to return in a few hours, and both Jethro and Tony relaxed and sighed. Tony had started to doze off when Jethro reached for the reports. All three seemed to be identical at the top, a standard format, but the official statement section was different for all three.

He started with the top file.

“Statement of Events:

At approximately 2100 hours, Slave 09329-G, known as Jethro, rendered me unconscious in my home. I regained consciousness at approximately 2300 hours and followed his tracking chip to a wooded area approximately 2.3 miles from my home. En route to his position to apprehend and contain him, I encountered three assailants also intent on capturing Jethro. The first, an Alessandro Rivera, was closest to me and I brought him down and rendered him unconscious. I then pursued the other two assailants and Jethro into the woods. There, Jethro tackled me, and one of the assailants aimed a rifle in our direction. I diverted the barrel, however he fired a shot into my shoulder. Jethro took his gun, but was assaulted by the third assailant. While I secured the second assailant, Dwayne Parker, the third was attempting to strangle Jethro and I fired three warning shots into a tree. Jethro lost consciousness as I secured the final assailant, Asher Christian.

Response required:

Per slave regulations, any branded slave who assaults their owner and/or attempts to escape in a violent manner is subject to immediate euthanasia. As a federal agent, it is my responsibility to maintain the safety of my slave and the community around me. An official review of the situation and suspension without pay is required.”

If this was a true statement, why did DiNozzo give him three reports? Maybe the recommendations were different? He couldn't think of why, but he closed the top file and moved to number two.

“Statement of Events:

At approximately 2100 hours, Slave 09329-G, known as Jethro, and I chose to take a jog. At approximately 2300 hours, we get separated in the dark. I followed his tracking chip to a wooded area approximately 2.3 miles from my home. En route to his position, where he had stopped to wait for me, I encountered three assailants also intent on assaulting Jethro. The first, an Alessandro Rivera, was closest to me and I brought him down and rendered him unconscious. I then pursued the other two assailants and Jethro into the woods. There, I found Jethro, and one of the assailants aimed a rifle in our direction. I diverted the barrel, however he fired a shot into my shoulder. Jethro took his gun, but was assaulted by the third assailant. While I secured the second assailant, Dwayne Parker, the third, Asher Christian, was attempting to strangle Jethro. I fired three warning shots into a tree. Jethro lost consciousness as I secured the final assailant.

Response required:

Per slave regulations, any branded slave who is left unattended is to be returned his owner on a probationary basis. As a federal agent, it is my responsibility to maintain the safety of my slave and the community around me. An official review of the situation is required.”

Tony lied. Jethro stared at the paragraph before him. His owner was willing to sign his name to a paper that was untrue, to save his life. What the hell is file number 3?

“Statement of Events:

At approximately 2100 hours, Slave 09329-G, known as Jethro, and I chose to take a jog on a trail approximately 2 miles from my home. We chose to challenge each other, and Jethro beat me to a preset location. En route to his position, where he had stopped to wait for me, I encountered three assailants also intent on assaulting Jethro. The first, an Alessandro Rivera, was closest to me and I brought him down and rendered him unconscious. I then pursued the other two assailants and Jethro into the woods. There, I found Jethro, and one of the assailants aimed a rifle in our direction. I diverted the barrel, however he fired a shot into my shoulder. Jethro came from behind and subdued the second suspect, Dwayne Parker, and took his gun. He was then assaulted by the third assailant, Asher Christian. While I secured the second assailant, the third was attempting to strangle Jethro and I fired three warning shots into a tree. Jethro lost consciousness as I secured the final assailant.

Response required:

Jethro has acted to protect me, above and beyond what is normally expected of a slave. As a federal agent, it is my responsibility to maintain the safety of my slave and the community around me. Jethro's actions have aided me in this goal, and I recommend his appointment as a probationary employee of NCIS.”

Jethro dropped the file, causing Tony to wake with a jerk, reaching for the sidearm he knew wasn’t there. “Jesus, man, easy,” he told Jethro, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He saw the files open in front of him, and asked, “so? Your call. I even brought a shredder for the other two.”

“First you're shot, then you lie?” Jethro was shaking.

“Yeah, not very honorable, but I guess the ends justify the means.” He gritted his teeth as he pulled himself more upright in the chair. “I'm done doing what everyone tells me I should. I'm doing this my way now. But whichever one I file, you damn sure better be with me on this. You want out? Fine. I'll take the suspension, then eventually I'll go back to life as normal. Do I want to see you die? No. But that's your call. If you want to go back to where we were before, fine. If you want to work with me? That's gonna take a lot more trust. For both of us. No more running. When it's absolutely necessary, we follow the rules, like restraints in certain buildings, and you'll live with me permanently. I get that 15 years has probably fucked with your head, and trust is foreign at this point. All the psychology and mumbo jumbo said I should just keep being a good owner, because that's what you're trained to need by now, but no. You might be a little fucked up, but you're not stupid. Ball’s in your court.” Tony let out the rest of his breath and watched Jethro's reaction.

He immediately tore the second report in half, tossing it to his feet, and held the other two in his hands. He could end this all right now. He spent 15 years bending over backwards for other people, and getting whipped and beaten for the trouble. Who knows what he'd have to deal with if he went forward with DiNozzo's cockamamie plan. And he'd still be a slave. He could be with Shannon and Kelly again. It was all he'd wanted for years.

But then his dad would lose him again. He could get into law enforcement, in some capacity, and help catch people like Hernandez, legally.

“For what it's worth, I've talked to Ducky to see if any of his contacts have ever been able to free a branded slave. No luck so far. But I'll keep trying.” Tony added.

Jethro didn't doubt his words, but he looked Tony straight on the eye and held up the folder he chose. “You need to make some changes.”


	21. Sunday+1 0730

“Boss?” Tim put a hand on Tony's shoulder as gently as he could. He knew how violently he could wake up, especially when he was injured.

Tony jerked back, then groaned in pain. “Damnit, McGee, what?”

“Tony, I just wanted to let you know it's almost visiting hours. Jackson and LJ are here already. Figured they'd seen enough, seeing you practically snuggling Jethro might be a bit much.” Tim tried _really hard_ to not smirk. _Really._ He was relatively successful.

“What are you talking about?” Tony glared at him.

“Tony, your head was almost in his lap.” He angled his head toward the door when Tony paled. They left the sleeping man and spoke in hushed tones outside the door.

“You're falling for him.” Tim poked Tony in the shoulder. Tony’s eyes narrowed and he started to say something, but Tim held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I'm not judging. I see it, I do.”

Tony just swallowed and whispered harshly, “no more 'advice’ Tim.”

McGee nodded. “No problem. But if you want to talk, friend to friend, I'll listen.” He meant it. He’d tried to give the best advice he could, he wanted to keep Tony safe emotionally and physically, but it just wasn't him. Tim had his hard limits, but was a little more flexible on the idea of 'consent,’ when it came to slave training, than Tony was. It's just how he was raised. Tony was an abolitionist through and through, and no amount of reading or talking would convince him that any kind of slavery was OK. “But in the meantime, Ducky is _pissed.”_

Tony slumped his shoulders. “About this?”

Tim nodded. “Mostly that by sitting here and _not_ getting checked out, you're taking a huge risk you shouldn't be. Find a damn doctor, I'll watch Jethro.” He started to turn towards the door, when Tony grabbed his arm.

“Um, how about you have Ducky sit with him? He trusts Ducky.”

Tim blinked in confusion. “Why? What did I do?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Tim, you're a trainer. You can't hide behind 'work McGee' with him, he already sees you as a threat. Just call Ducky in, ok?”

Tim rolled his eyes and nodded. Tony waited until Ducky stormed through the doors from the waiting room. “Anthony, you and I need to have a long talk. Get that looked at, and then, if you avoid me, I will put you on medical suspension for a month.” Tony knew it wasn't an idle threat, so he hurried to find Jethro's doctor. If he couldn't examine him, he could at least refer him to someone who could.

*****

Jethro woke to find his father and LJ enthralled by a rather animated story told by the older man he remembered from the hotel. “Ducky?” He asked, and all three men snapped their heads to see him.

“Yes, my boy, I'm glad to find you well.” Ducky waved the other two men towards the bed as he hung back and observed. He'd been disappointed in Anthony when he learned of what had transpired in his basement, but seeing Jethro genuinely smile, and seeing him with family that Anthony and Timothy had found, made up for his disappointment. In a few hours, LJ and Jackson went to lunch, and Ducky was left alone with the silver haired Marine.

“How’s Celia?” He asked.

“She is doing well. Mother loves her, and especially her cooking. In fact, just the other day, mother insisted on helping her bake bread. Mother hasn't cooked in ages. I think I've finally started to break her of some of the poor habits she’s developed over the years.”

Jethro's eyes went wide and he stiffened. “What?”

Ducky looked at him, “what has you troubled?” And then realization set in, “oh my goodness me, no no no! I simply meant that Celia is finally starting to smile and laugh without flinching! I do apologize, I forget that you do not know me that well. But I can assure you she actually seems happy. When you are well, we would love to have you and Anthony over for supper.”

Jethro settled back onto his pillows and closed his eyes in relief as the nurse came in with his and Ducky's lunch trays. Ducky cursed when he saw the trays, and opened his cell phone. “Timothy, could you please bring us another proper lunch. Apparently a healing man deserves little more than a sandwich, simply because he is cuffed to a bed.” He slammed his phone shut and cursed again under his breath, then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I apologize for my language. Now, let us split these, and young Timothy will bring something else shortly.”

Jethro pursed his lips and glanced at his plate, now containing half a small ham sandwich, half a salad, a fruit cup, half a meatloaf slice, two spoons of mashed potatoes, and a handful of green beans. He figured he could deal with “Master Tim” if it meant something decent to eat.

*****

“Yes sir, I did say Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”

_“Well hot damn probie. Haven't thought of him in ages. He get that son of a bitch that killed his girls?”_

“Yeah. And he got a lifetime of slavery for the trouble. I'm guessing you had something to do with him catching the scent?”

_“I don't know about that. I mean, I wasn't always careful with my paperwork, you remember…”_

Tony shook his head. _Damnit_. “Look, Franks, I don't care how he got the info. Water under the bridge. What I need is something I can take to Vance to get him another good word. He's coming to NCIS.”

_“Wait, YOU’RE his owner? Well why didn't you say so? Don't you worry about Vance. I'll talk to him. Write an official report or something. That boy deserves a goddamn medal. And if he ever gets tired of your pretty face, he can always come drink beers on the beach with me.”_

“Sorry Franks, no deal. But thanks. I mean it.”

Tony hung up the phone and sighed. He’d been told, under no uncertain terms, to wait in this room until his x-rays came back. He hated waiting. His fingers started tapping on the tray table in front of him what would have been a melody if he'd been at his piano. He just needed to get out of this damn place.

****

“Ah, Timothy, thank you ever so much. However, I do feel the need to check on Anthony. Would you be so kind as to wait here with Jethro so the administration of this hospital doesn't fly off the handle?”

Jethro bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snarling at the thought, and just took one of the food containers from Ducky's hands.

“Sure, Ducky, no problem.” He smiled and nodded softly, then sat in a chair close to the foot of the bed.

When Ducky left, Jethro dropped all pretense of niceties. To his credit, Tim never said a word about the icy glare being sent his way. Goodness knows he would never in a million years admit that the man slightly intimidated him.

They remained that way until Tony came into the room. He swooped in, half expecting to find bloodshed. Three steps later, he froze and started laughing. “Oh god, I can't even...Tim, get out here.”

McGee stood, not taking his eyes off Gibbs until he had to turn to exit the room. “What, Tony? What is so damn funny?” He didn't like feeling rattled. He wasn't totally off kilter, but something about Jethro's stare had actually made him a little uncomfortable.

“I've _never_ seen you so hyper focused, Tim. Holy crap, it was like two wolves staring each other down over a kill. The tension was thick enough I could have cut it with a knife, I HAD to laugh.”

Tim didn't like being laughed at, especially by someone he'd turned over his knee routinely for such behavior. He felt the hair on his neck stand up, “I'm glad I'm amusing, Tony.”

Tony dropped his grin, “Tim, people laugh when they're stressed. It's a reaction. You two created a giant room of stress. The fact that I'm amazed that you seem slightly intimidated only added to it. I'm not laughing _at you_.”

“He doesn't intimidate me.” Tim growled. Tony nodded and let it go.

“Look, they want me to stay overnight, but I told them to bug off. Jethro only has minor injuries, besides his stitches on his head, so they're releasing him today. I've still got this week off, and Ducky will be checking in on me, but I'd like you to come over in a few days. If he's gonna work with us, you two are gonna have to deal with this pissing match, so we’ll start with some movies. Wednesday or Thursday. Deal?” Tony squared his shoulders and gave Tim the look that told him he meant business. When it came to work matters, Tony was the alpha male, and Tim nodded.

*****

“I got it.” Jethro waved off the nurse hesitantly reaching for the cuff on his ankle to clip it to the wheelchair. He clicked the lock closed and settled into the chair, grabbing the wheels and pushing through the crowd of people.

“Jethro, wait,” Tony ran up behind him.

“Get me out of this thing.” He jerked his foot and glared at Tony.

“As soon as we get to the car. Rules and regulations, part of the deal, remember?” Tony sighed and walked ahead of him, hitting the elevator button. “Hospital likes keeping slaves tied to something. Bed, chair, whatever. As much as I wish I could, I can't change everything.”

The two went into the elevator and Tony started to hold the door for everyone else, but Jethro pulled him inside and hit the 'close door’ button. As the car began moving, Jethro flipped the switch labeled “emergency stop.”

“Ok, what are you doing?” Tony asked, leaning toward the control panel, but Jethro blocked his arm.

“Before you file that, are you sure?”

Tony saw his line of sight aimed at the folder under his arm. “I wouldn't have written it if I wasn't.”

“And I have your word about what happens? Equals?” Tony noticed Jethro's breathing had sped up and his eyes kept shifting slightly, as though he were fighting to hold his gaze.

Tony held out his hand. “You have my word. In our home, we are equals. At work, provided Vance approves my petition, you are an equal team member. And _that_ will be in writing.” Jethro shook his hand, and Tony felt how clammy he was. “Do you feel alright?”

“Fine,” Jethro reached for the emergency stop switch, but paused. “And the changes I made?”

Tony sighed. It had been the right thing to do. “Yeah. I should have put it in in the first place.” What Tony had neglected to mention before was what the man who had shot him had said as he leveled the gun. 'Daddy says hi.’ Tony hated his father, but he still felt a kind of loyalty. He didn't even think to put it into the report, even though he'dknown from the minute he heard them who'd sent the goons. But Jethro had heard it too, and insisted that, if Tony was going to lie in the rest of the report to save his ass, at least put blame where it was due for the assault and shooting. Had that not happened, Tony likely would have gotten him home and stitched up with no one (except Ducky) the wiser anyway.

“Still don't like this whole hero bullshit.” Jethro clenched his jaw and glared at his hands in his lap.

“That part was true. You saved my ass. If you'd just run, I'd be dead. You got the gun and held it on him long enough for me to recover. Shit, you were running from me too, but you still saved my ass. Suck it up, you're a goddamn hero.” Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the back of the elevator. “Can we go now? I've got shit to move out of my garage and back into the basement.”

Jethro looked at him and smiled. “You got it Slick.”


	22. Sunday+1 1330

“it's about a week late, but let me give you a tour. You already know your way through the first floor, just make sure you shut the doors behind you next time.” Tony unconsciously stretched his neck, still sore from the choke hold he’d been dealt just over 24 hours prior. Jethro nodded, clearing his throat nervously. He knew his verbal agreement with DiNozzo was still tenuous, so he figured it would be better to just keep silent for now.

But then Tony headed up the stairs. Jethro froze. Three owners, and only one had brought him upstairs. Even Diane had come to him, occasionally offering her sofa if her parents were out of town, but where he’d been bought and sold, most slaves who weren't housekeeping _never_ went to the private areas of the home unless they were to be used in a less-than-innocent manner. “You coming?” Tony asked. Jethro inhaled deeply and pushed forward, ignoring the way his stomach turned with each step. He had his pride.

“Ok, here’s my room and bath. Linens, your room, office, second bath,” he listed each room as he pointed toward the doors. “Any questions?"

Jethro’s head was swimming. In the elevator, it was easier because he’d been sitting, but now… “may I see my room?” He realized he’d lowered his eyes, speaking as a slave. _Shit._ He kicked himself, mentally. When he had something or someone to be angry with, he could handle this. But without the anger, this whole thing was too foreign. He felt weak and unsure, and he’d much rather feel angry. He needed something to lean on, and anger was as good a crutch as any.

“No need to ask. Go ahead. We'll need to go shopping for more clothes, but I put what I have in there on the bed. The closet still has some of my stuff, but it'll be out this week.” Tony clapped him on the shoulder and started to turn.

“Wait.” Tony turned back and raised his eyebrows, “does NIS pay their slaves? I know some businesses provide a stipend. I can't live off you like this.”

Tony smiled. “A: it’s NCIS now, and B: yes, it is in the provisions. We’ll negotiate that on Friday when you interview with the director.”

Jethro nodded in relief and turned toward the door. Opening it, he found a small, but well kept room. Blue sheets with a duvet of blues, whites, and grey, grey curtains, and a stack of clothes on the bed. Mostly khakis and polos. _I can deal with that,_ he thought. He refolded and organized the dresser as he preferred and remade the bed to his standards. He sat on the bed and was pleased with just how comfortable it was. And for the first time in a very long time, he laid down on a soft bed, without chains, and napped.

*****

“DiNozzo.”

_“DiNozzo, I just had an interesting talk with an old coworker of yours, a Mike Franks…”_

“Yes director. How is Franks?”

_“You know damn well how he is. He gave me some cockamamie story about how your slave was the one to break the case on his family's murder, and how great an investigator he is. Almost like someone told him there was an interview scheduled.”_

Tony smiled. Good ol’ Franks. “Huh. Weird.”

_“I'm not stupid. But if the guy left an impression on the great Mike Franks, whether he’s pulling my chain or not, I'll take it as a sign. Interview's rescheduled, bring him today. Preferably before 5.”_

“Director, you know I was just shot, and he was almost kidnapped, right?” Tony was shocked. He was hoping for a bit of prep work with Jethro.

_“Yes, I'm aware of your hospital stay and the report you filed. I'm just not sure how some of your and his injuries add up in that, and I want to try to figure this guy out for myself well before your week is up. Today, or the position is denied, DiNozzo.”_

“Understood, Director.” Tony hung up the phone with a sigh. He needed to talk to Jethro, but first he went into his closet. There was a small box of the other things LJ had brought from Jethro's storage unit. He had hoped to actually talk first, but this had to happen today.

After he had some rest. Tony stopped himself at the foot of the stairs when he heard no movement. If Jethro was sleeping, he didn't want to wake him. So he placed the box on the dining room table and made his way to his piano. He began playing a simple melody, slowly adding to it, composing as he went. He may have thought of lyrics and vocals too, but he was too keenly aware now of just how out of it he got when he sang. He didn't think Jethro would run again, but he didn't like being unaware with someone else in the house.

Jethro stirred in the sheets when he heard the piano, briefly thinking it was all a nightmare inside a nightmare and he was still chained in the basement. As his eyes opened and he saw afternoon sun glinting softly through the curtains, he remembered. Remembered that this was a good thing. That he was going to be OK. He padded to the bathroom across the hall, found his toiletry bag from the basement set on the sink, with an empty medicine cabinet waiting. He brushed his teeth as he set the shower running. He glanced at the jet tub and sighed. Someday he’d admit to himself that a bath sounded REALLY good. But not today.

Tony heard the shower running and he stopped playing. He turned toward the flat box on the table and pulled a small plastic bag from his pocket. He placed the bag on top of the box just as he heard the stairs creak. “Why'd ya stop?” He turned and tried to keep his breathing steady. Jethro was half dressed, jeans riding low on his hips, scrubbing his damp hair with a towel, and it was all Tony could do to turn away from the sight.

“Change of plans. You remember Mike Franks?” He gestured toward one of the chairs and Jethro sat.

“Of course.” His tone was hesitant. What plans were changing?

“He called in a good word. Now the director wants to meet you.” Tony looked Jethro in the eye, “Today.”

Jethro just nodded.

Tony figured he wasn't getting any more of a response than that, so he continued. “I didn't get you a suit, figured we could talk about it before Friday, but now we're stuck. He’s a suit kinda guy, and your shoulders won't fit right in my jackets. So... I have this.” He slid the box across the table.

Jethro opened it, but pushed it back to Tony as soon as he caught a glimpse of what was inside. “No. I can't wear it.”

Tony sighed, “why? I checked the measurements, and if I'm as good at estimating as I think I am, it should still fit.”

Jethro shook his head. “I won't. Only a Marine can wear the uniform. I'm not…” his voice faded.

Tony clenched his fist, “Once a Marine, always a Marine.” He was getting tired of these flashes of defeat in Jethro's eyes.

“No.” Jethro's voice was final, but his hand wavered on the edge of the box.

“Listen. I know you don't want to admit it, but I'm thinking Tim was a little right.” Jethro glared at him and started to protest, but Tony held up a hand. “Just, hear me out. You've been fed a lot of bullshit, and dealt with a lot of hell for 15 years. There's no shame in needing some time to feel normal again. But you're still the same person.” He pushed the box back in front of Jethro, and the older man didn't refuse this time. “I also have these.” Tony didn't want to overwhelm him, but this was a legality, not just a suggestion.

Jethro grabbed the chain and tags from his hand. “Where'd you get these?”

“Your dad. You mailed them to him. He almost buried them, but changed his mind. Part of him never gave up on you.” He paused, not liking what he had to say next. “But they're not just sentimental.”

Jethro looked at him and he continued. “I forgot that there are ID rules. While the shackles and all that are more flexible depending on job and status, the powers that be are _not_ forgiving on collars. I've already got a hefty fine after our “excursion” to the woods.” Talking about Collars and IDs like they were talking about a pet was making him angry, but he kept going. “No guidelines say what the collar has to look like though, just what the ID has to say. So I got this.” He tossed Jethro the little bag with a new tag to add to his service ones. Jethro caught it easily. “Fulfills the legal obligation, and won't interfere with work or be obvious in any way.” Jethro just slid the tag onto the chain and looked at them. Old tags and new...his old life vs this one. Choice vs Slavery.

Tony waited for some kind of reaction, until he looked at the time. “Jethro, we have to go. Please, believe me when I tell you that you still deserve to wear that uniform.” The older man met his eyes, nodded curtly, grabbed the box and headed to his room.

He opened the box on his bed and pulled the clothes from the box. 15 years in storage, and it was still impeccably pressed. There was a photo album at the bottom of the box, but he put it away with the small box LJ had given him already. As he donned the blue and tan clothing, he felt stronger. He felt his pride returning, and stood straighter than he had all day. Chin up, eyes straight, he slowly turned to look at himself in the full length mirror in the closet. Aside from needing a haircut, he looked like a Marine. He _felt_ like a Marine. Grabbing his cover, he tucked it under his arm and headed down the stairs.

Tony exhaled through pursed lips. He went into the downstairs bath and brushed his teeth and styled his hair. He wasn't the one who needed to make an impression, so he stayed in the plain button up shirt and jeans. It was easier than trying to don a suit with a sling. When he heard Jethro clear his throat, he turned and gasped. Hard as he tried, he couldn't hide his reaction to seeing Jethro in uniform. He'd seen the man nude before, but this was even hotter. He blushed and felt the rest of his body take notice. His brain was telling him to turn away, to break his stare, but his body wouldn't let him. He raked his eyes up and down the toned body in the perfectly aligned uniform and his pulse quickened. Finally, Jethro shifted his weight to one leg and crooked an eyebrow, and it broke the spell. “Well, let's uh...get…” Tony blinked furiously, cleared his throat and he saw Jethro smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“Tony.” Jethro stopped him with one word. He’d been calling him DiNozzo most of the time, and the firmness in his voice was new.

“That's my name.” Tony chuckled nervously. He tried to shake it off, he’s a goddamn special agent, not some tittering schoolgirl.

Jethro reached a hand to touch his arm, and when Tony didn't pull back, he gripped it tighter, close to the elbow. Tony tensed, but still didn't withdraw. “Are you...ogling me?” Jethro’s smirk turned to a smug grin when Tony blushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

Tony wrenched his arm free and strode to the door, grabbing his keys from the hook on the wall. “Let's go.” He stormed out, leaving the shackles where he’d dumped them. Jethro grabbed them with a snarl and followed behind, closing the door securely.


	23. Sunday+1 1600

“Forgot something.” Jethro dropped the cuffs in Tony’s lap and he winced, but said nothing as the uniformed man beside him buckled his seatbelt. Tony pulled out and drove, a bit more recklessly than usual, toward the Naval Yard. About a block away, he pulled over suddenly.

“Wrists.” He picked up the leather cuffs in his lap. Jethro kept his chin up as he presented his wrists together, palms up. Tony gently clasped the links together, and if his thumbs lingered at the soft pulse points, neither of them said anything. He took a deep breath and handed Jethro a thin wool coat from the back seat. “This may work.” He covered the cuffs efficiently, and threw the car into gear.

Tony sped the last half mile to the gates of the naval yard. He scanned his card and waved at the guard as the gate opened, Jethro just tipped his head and tried not to shift his hands too much.

Finally, they got to security. This was the part Tony knew he was going to hate. Even Cynthia, after years of working here, had to go through the slave entrance. Tony followed behind Jethro, glaring at the guard he’d known for 6 years, as he tried to tell him he couldn't proceed. “Agent DiNozzo, you need to go through the proper entrance. Only slaves are to enter here and will be subject to search and identification confirmation.”

“Then search me, Kyle.” Tony started opening his shirt, but Jethro turned to him.

“Stand down, DiNozzo.” He said, quietly but firmly.

“Jethro, come on. These guys have been itching for an eyeful for years anyway!” He grinned, grabbing the bottom corner of his shirt out of his pants with his good hand, and spun in a circle, presenting his tanned and toned body for all to see.

Jethro maintained his downward-tilted face, but met Tony’s eyes. “It's fine. Go.”

Tony pouted and since it was a weekend, he passed quickly through his employee security line and waited for Jethro on the other side. He watched everything Jethro went through--the thorough pat down, the testing of his cuffs, the inspection of his ID tag, the demand to open his mouth to check for hidden objects. “For God's sake, if you're gonna do a cavity search at least let me do it!” He shouted, with a wink that belied his level of anxiety with the process, and the guards pushed Jethro toward him with a bright Orange visitor tag. Surprisingly, Jethro handled this all in stride and walked past Tony with his head high, as though he were unfazed.

When they entered the elevator, Tony hit the button for the bullpen. As he did in the hospital, Jethro scanned the panel and stopped the elevator. Tony sighed, “what now?”

“What was that back there?” Jethro certainly felt a whole lot better in uniform, more centered, more in control. Maybe it was a crutch too, but it was better than anger.

“You shouldn't have to go through that, it's bullshit.” Tony was flushed with anger now, but Jethro stopped him.

“Don't pity me.” He said, the deep rumble making Tony step back just a hair. “I made my choice, and even with all of this, I'd do it again. You can't save me, DiNozzo, but I appreciate the help.” He had invaded Tony’s space, but Tony didn't back down. Had they been at home, he knew he’d be a puddle of goo, but at work, HE was the boss.

“Gibbs,” Tony smiled at himself for making the older man swallow and shift at the use of his surname. “At work, I'M top dog. I don't like when my agents are harassed and detained and kept from their duties. Never have, never will. I may be 'Tony,’ at home, and maybe I have some issues with this that I need to work through, but here I'm the boss. You will treat me as such. That includes telling me to ‘stand down,’ which will NOT happen again, or our agreement is off.” This was the mask he wore so well that he even fooled himself sometimes, and the icy stare he gave Jethro made the man step back in surprise. Tony relaxed his shoulders then, and continued. “When it comes to Vance, just treat him like a C.O. He’s a thorn in my side, and he prefers computer geeks to good old fashioned police work, but he’s a good guy overall. He has always owned at least one slave, so he won’t tiptoe around the issue, but he’s good to her. She’s his secretary, and unless she’s masochistic I’m guessing he has no issues with someone challenging him regardless of their legal status, so don’t worry about the ‘rules’ with him.”

Jethro nodded his thanks at the advice, and Tony started the elevator. As they strode past the bullpen to the stairs, Jethro noticed Tim sitting next to an empty desk. But he glanced at Tony, confused. The man sitting there was far different from the one he’d met in the basement, or the one in the hospital. His tie was slightly off-center, his body language shy and submissive, his movements unsure until something came onto his computer. When that happened, Jethro caught a glimpse of the confidence he knew was there, but the boy was hiding. “Work McGee.” Tony said, and shrugged as though that would explain everything.

And then there was Cynthia. Jethro couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful young woman, who smiled back, but glared at Tony. “Really?” She gestured toward Jethro. “You brought him in _uniform_ and still cuffed?”

Tony held up his hands, “You know security!”

She took a step toward him, and Jethro noticed the velvet collar under her shirt. A nice choice for comfort, at least. “Anthony Dinozzo, you uncuff him right now.” Tony laughed and produced the key and clicked the cuffs open, draping them over his own arm.

“Happy?” He asked

Cynthia’s demeanor changed immediately. She eyed Jethro up and down and smirked. “You keep bringing him around, and I’ll definitely be happy. He’s yummy.”

“Hands to yourself, Cynthia. We have classes about that kind of language.” Vance appeared in the doorway. Cynthia shrugged and sat back at her desk, arms folded. “DiNozzo, Gunny,” he stood back and held the door for the two men. Jethro felt his heart rise to his throat at hearing him use his rank. His old rank. But he followed DiNozzo into the small room.

“Sit, gentlemen.” Vance began, reaching into a small cup on his desk for a toothpick. Tony let out a nearly inaudible snort, but Jethro ignored it. “Heard you had quite the adventure, DiNozzo. Can’t keep out of trouble even on leave, can you?”

Tony waved his hand slightly and in a twangy rough voice said “Young fella, if you’re lookin for trouble, I’ll accommodate ya.” Vance’s blank stare made him roll his eyes. In his normal voice, Tony said, exasperated, “Seriously? Nobody?” He looked at Jethro, “Come on, please…”

“The Duke.” Was his response.

“Thank you!” Tony raised his good hand for a high five, but Jethro just crooked an eyebrow. “Ugh, fine, you two are made for each other. Anyway, continue” he waved them on and leaned back in his chair.

Vance shook his head and looked at Jethro. “You’re no stranger to trouble either. I read the report DiNozzo filed. I heard quite the glowing recommendation from Franks. Our M.E. seems to be quite taken with you. But I won’t take this lightly. I'm even here on my day off to make sure this isn't  mistake. Why should I take the risk of getting you trained, signing the exemptions necessary to keep you uncuffed and even _armed_ practically 24/7? They all think you’re worth it. What do you think?”

Jethro shifted slightly, resting a hand on the white cap in his hand, drawing on the strength he used to have. “Because I’m good, sir. And frankly, I’ll defend this team better than most because I have nothing left to lose.” Vance seemed to like his honesty, and nodded.

“DiNozzo, your report didn’t mention anything about the bruise on your neck,” Vance chewed on his toothpick with a small smirk.

Tony glared at him, “What happens in my home stays in my home, Director.” He winked and smiled, knowing that if he implied it was something sexual, Vance really _should_ leave it alone. Whether he believed it or not.

Vance’s glare told him he didn’t believe it. But he did leave it alone. “DiNozzo, I want to speak with Gibbs alone.” Tony nodded and left without another word. Jethro shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to portray the person he used to be, the one who would be the best at this job, but 15 years had shown him that it wasn’t a good thing when your owner left you alone with another slaver. His wrists itched as his anxiety rose and he was grateful he wasn’t cuffed.

“Drink?” Jethro’s eyes shot up to look at the bottle in the Director’s hand.

“No thank you, Sir.” He kept his chin up but gaze down.

“Drop the formalities. You’re a guest for now. If I approve your application, then you can call me sir. I just want to know more about you.” Jethro nodded, still wound tight but his anxiety had calmed. “Tell me about DiNozzo.”

Jethro’s brow knit in confusion. “He’s your employee.”

Vance smirked, “I know what I think, but I want your impression of him.”

Jethro was never one to beat around the bush, politics be damned, so he told Vance what he thought. “He pretends to be a pompous prick who knows better than everyone around him, but he’s just keeping everyone at arms length. He’s damn good at his job, too, so maybe he does know better than everyone around him. And once you’re a friend, he’d do anything for you. He has a low opinion of his personal worth, which means he takes risks he probably shouldn’t. How’m I doing?”

Vance nodded. “What about me?”

Jethro squinted slightly, but kept going. “You want what’s best for your teams, you’re not a fan of politics but you do well, and you don’t take as many risks. You’ve got family at home,” Vance’s miniscule reaction to that didn’t go unnoticed, “but you’ve lost someone. You wish you could be in the field, but would never do it again.”

Another nod. “And yourself?”

Jethro’s eyes closed briefly. “Still working on it.”

Vance leaned forward. “Not acceptable, Marine. I want an evaluation, and since you seem to be so good at them, I want yours.”

With a deep breath, Jethro replied, “I believe in Justice, which didn’t always coincide with the law, and would do anything to protect those I consider family. I don’t take orders well, as the scars on my body can attest, but I’m loyal to a fault. As I said, I have nothing to lose, and would put myself in harms way to keep others safe. I have my demons, but they don’t affect my ability to do a job and do it well.”

“OK.” Vance picked up his pen and signed a paper, handing it to Jethro.

“OK?” Jethro looked at the paper full of legalese and very tiny print.

Vance stood and extended his hand, “Welcome to the team, probationary agent Gibbs.”


	24. Sunday+1 1630

“So, now that you're hired,” Vance began, signing the papers and handing them to Jethro, “How about you tell me about that gash on your head.” He gave a knowing smirk and settled back into his chair.

Jethro went with the truth. That's what this guy was looking for, that's why he'd asked  _ after _ signing the papers. “Tried to de-chip myself.”

Vance nodded. “Impressive. Heard you dug clear to the bone and didn't pass out.”

“Well sir, after 15 years as a slave, you figure out how to work through pain.” Jethro’s mind briefly returned to the 48 hours straight he was forced to work, tarring the roofs of his owner’s businesses, shirtless in the hot sun, after being flogged for “seducing” Diane. Sadly, digging into his own skull wasn't the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“Tell me about Mexico. The  _ real _ story, not the Mike Franks version, and not the bullshit that got stuck in your file.” Vance spun the toothpick to the other side of his mouth and Jethro noticed as his hand slid closer to the photo on his desk. A younger version of the Director, a woman, and two kids.

Jethro nodded. He wasn't sure which member [or members] of that family were gone, but he knew they had something in common. So he gave the shortest version he could without becoming emotional.

“I was on tour, my wife witnessed a murder. She was under NIS protection, but before I could get home, I got blown up. When I came out of the coma I found out the killer had shot her driver and the accident killed her and my daughter. When I got back to the States, Franks told me the murderer had skipped the country. Then he went to the bathroom. My family’s file was on the desk. I copied what info I could, tracked the bastard, stalked him for weeks until I knew his patterns, waited until he was on his biweekly run to the desert, and shot him in the head from a ridge about 1200 yards away. Locals heard the shot, caught me coming down the hill. I probably could've gotten away but I figured they'd just hang me and I'd be done.”

He watched Vance for a reaction, but all he did was nod. Then he sat up, pulled a temporary ID form from his desk, along with a salary offer. “Now, technically this salary is in DiNozzo's name, just like Cynthia's is in mine, but given his outspokenness on slavery, I'm guessing finances won't be an issue.” He passed the paper to Jethro who raised both eyebrows in surprise. Vance chuckled, “I pulled some strings. You'll make what any other probationary agent would make. You pass your probation, you'll get promoted. If I'm right, you'll be Special Agent Gibbs pretty damn quickly.” At Jethro's look of suspicion, Vance waved in the general direction of the door, “Cynthia gets the same salary as a Free secretary would. Admins would love to pay less, but I just told them I'd hire a Free person for my team, and they shut up. They may have to pay you the same salary, but they get credits in the budget for each Slave and they don't have to pay your benefits, it’s all under DiNozzo. Politics” he concluded with a sigh.

The pair stood and Vance opened the door for Jethro just in time to watch Cynthia slap Tony’s hand away from the bowl of candies on her desk.

“Hey, what gives?” Tony pretended to sound offended.

Cynthia winked and, in a British accent, replied, “Me,given an ounce of encouragement. You've never taken me to dinner looking like this. You've never taken me to dinner…”

Tony tweaked his face into a faux seductive look, one eyebrow raised, and slipped into his approximation of a Scottish accent, “I would, you know. Only "V" would have me court-martialed for... illegal use of government property.”

Cynthia giggled, and Jethro glanced at Vance. He just shrugged, obviously movie-based flirting was nothing new between them, and as Cynthia returned her volley, “Flattery will get you nowhere - but don't stop trying.” Vance cleared his throat.

“Daniel Craig you are not, DiNozzo.”

Tony spun, and Jethro was pretty sure Cynthia was blushing, although she hid it well. “Craig? Seriously? You don't know True Grit, but you get a James Bond reference? And then screw it up?!” He slid off the edge of Cynthia's desk and threw his hands in the air. “How do I work with these people?”

Jethro couldn't help it, and he chuckled. Vance patted him on the back and informed him he’d need to complete some forms online, and that he’d see him at his desk in a week. “And DiNozzo,” he called after them, “Go shopping. Get him something less... distracting...to wear.” He glanced at Cynthia who was still very focused on the view before her as Jethro walked past her desk and out the door.

“And stop staring,” he said to Cynthia, when the two agents had left the room.

“Oh come ON!” She smirked, “not like I'm gonna jump him, he’s just tasty eye candy. I told you I had a thing for uniforms when I started here.”

Vance sighed and retreated to his office. She certainly was something else. Nobody believed he wasn't sleeping with her, they way they bickered like an old married couple, and some people thought he let her get away with too much, but he waved them all off. He never gave a damn what anyone else thought, why start now?

*****

“What the?” Jethro stared at the screen in front of him like it was an ancient manuscript he was trying to translate. He clicked a few things, typed a few things, then threw the mouse down in frustration, snarling at the computer. “What happened to good old fashioned pen and paper!?”

"Need some help?” He heard a quiet voice beside him. He looked over to see Tim. McGee, at work. He squinted at the man, unsure of how to respond. “Here, let's get you out of this screen and back to the beginning,” he took the mouse and started clicking through each page like a pro. Hell, he  _ was _ a pro. He glanced up at the rail where Vance and Tony were observing the interaction, and chose to bite his tongue. He still was having a hard time reconciling the timid young man so close to him with the cocky, confident, dominant man he’d met before. “Here, it's all set up in order, so when you fill this one out, it will automatically fill in some of the other pages. If you need anything else, Agent Gibbs, let me know.” He glanced up as he saw Tony descending the stairs and Vance nowhere to be seen. His eyes snapped to meet Jethro's and he had to smirk at the change.  _ There _ was that “Master Tim.” McGee curled his lip slightly as Tony cleared his throat and he returned to his desk and apparently his work persona.

Once the forms were completed, he hoped, Jethro groaned and leaned back in his chair. Or, at least, what he was using for now. Who knows what regulations there were for people in his position, he might get stuck in a basement somewhere. He shuddered at the thought. He felt eyes on him and glanced to his right. McGee was watching him with a smirk. He suddenly felt uncomfortable. Not because the kid intimidated him, but because he knew if they were to get into it, he’d be in a bad position. “Can I help you?” He asked, meeting the younger man’s stare.

“Nope.” He responded, and didn't move until they heard footsteps approaching. Jethro was impressed at the speed of the shift in his body as his shoulders lowered, his hands dropped, and he even had the ability to flush slightly.  _ Damn _ , he thought. If he wasn't such an ass, he might actually respect the kid.

The footsteps belonged to Tony, who awkwardly dropped a coffee in front of McGee, who glanced up with a “Thanks Boss,” and then motioned to Jethro with the other two coffees he carried. “You all set?” He asked as he handed Jethro the strong black coffee.

“Think so. Got more to do Monday, but can't start that 'til HR gets this stuff.” He closed his eyes and thoroughly enjoyed his Java fix.

“Ok. Herb tagliatelle with sausage for dinner?” Jethro sputtered a bit, but nodded. He still wasn't used to eating decent food, much less being asked his opinion on said food.

“Need help?” He asked, glancing at Tony’s arm in a sling.

Tony twisted his mouth to the side in thought, and then nodded. “Yeah, forgot about that. I'll tell you what I need done. Nobody messes with Anthony DiNozzo’s pasta.” Both men smiled as the elevator doors slid closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It won't all be smooth sailing for our guys, but it's a lot easier from here!
> 
> Also, I'm not 100% sure this account of how the whole murder/accident/coma/Mexico actually went down in the show, so I'm sticking with this order of events for my story :)


	25. Sunday+1 2000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: sexual assault mentioned/implied/threatened, but not described in detail.

As the pair approached the gate, the guards stopped them and immediately restrained Jethro. Kyle got in Tony's face, “DiNozzo, what the hell? He isn't authorized--"

“Back off, RoboCop. Yes he is.” Tony pulled out the paperwork giving Jethro the ability to remain uncuffed while working, and in the presence of his direct supervisor. Kyle glanced at the two guards pinning a VERY pissed off marine to the wall, and they released him with apologies. Neither man said anything as they left the building, and DiNozzo tossed the bright orange visitor tag on the desk as he walked by.

When they got to the car, Tony popped the hatch and tossed the cuffs into the back of the car. Jethro would have to carry his paperwork at all times until his photo ID was in, but unless he was going into a government building that didn't involve NCIS business, he wouldn't need those anymore. When he sat down, he looked at Jethro. “Thanks.” He said.

“For what?” Jethro was still straightening his rumpled uniform.  _ Damn rent-a-cops _ ... _ or whatever the hell they are… _

“For not losing your shit when they stopped you. You thought about it.” Tony had a moment of panic when he saw that gleam in Jethro's eye and the start of a snarl on his lip just before he stepped in.

“Well, they had guns. I didn't like the odds.”

*****

Dinner was great. Jethro couldn't remember ever actually enjoying cooking, but he didn't mind following orders this way. It wasn't owner vs slave, it was experienced cook vs someone who can heat up an MRE. Although he did cook a mean steak back in the day. When they were done eating and cleaning up, Jethro scanned through DiNozzo's vast movie collection. 

“It's separated by genre, then alphabetically. In case you're interested.” Tony said, as he opened two beers and handed one to Jethro. When the older man didn't make a selection, Tony snagged one of the DVDs off the impossibly huge rack and plopped onto the couch, taking a long swig from the bottle. “What’s up?” Tony asked when he noticed Jethro still standing, just looking at his drink.

Jethro huffed and sat next to Tony, rolling the neck of the bottle between thumb and forefinger. “Been a while.”

“For what? Movie or beer?” Tony asked, casually, while keeping an eye on the man beside him.

“Alcohol. Just don't have a taste for it anymore.” He put the bottle on the coffee table and raised his eyebrows toward the TV. Tony took the hint and slid the DVD into the player, choosing to ignore the vacant look that came across Jethro's face.

 

**4 years ago**

Jethro stood in the entry of the house, bound hand and feet, held in place by two large overseers. “You  _ like _ causing trouble, boy?” Master Carl was sneering at the struggling slave who had interrupted his selection of his next mistress. He’d apparently grown fairly fond of the little young strawberry blonde, and tried to 'rescue’ her. “Do you think you can be some kind of hero? You think because of your little stunt, I won't have that sweet young thing in my bed?” He grabbed Jethro's hair and pulled his head back to snarl in his ear, “or you?” Jethro jerked his head forward, aiming for Carl’s forehead and missing. He got a knee in his gut in response, then Carl’s muscle-bound oafs pushed him to his knees while Carl strode back across the room.

“Rumor has it you’ve been making liquor in your cabin. You like liquor, boy?” He came back with a large bottle of brown liquid and grabbed Jethro's face, forcing his mouth open. He tried to fight it, tried to spit it out, but after spilling a good third of the bottle all over himself, Jethro started to feel lightheaded. Carl stopped pouring and paced. “See, the girls, I have for my pleasure. They're soft, and pliable, and generally do what they're told, even if they're crying. But you? You pain in the ass macho slaves who think you're something better than an animal? Oh, I take you for the fun of it.” He grinned as he rubbed the bulge in his pants, and Jethro spit in his general direction. “Spit all you want. Hell, you’ll scream and cry and beg, ‘cause that's what you all do once I've got you cuffed to my bed. Then you'll come down ofg that high horse of yours.”

He slapped Jethro, hard, and watched his face come back to center. “Not quite drunk yet, are we? Well where's the fun in that?” He grabbed Jethro's jaw again and poured, getting more into him now that he was slightly off kilter from the alcohol. When he stopped, he put his face right next to Jethro's mouth. A dangerous place to be, and Jethro lunged. Or, he thought he lunged. Really, he fell onto his face on the hardwood floor. The oafs laughed, Carl laughed, and Jethro felt his eyes rolling back in his head as he passed out.

 

**Back in Tony's living room**

Halfway through the movie, Jethro stood and brought his beer into the kitchen. He threw the bottle into the sink where it shattered, then went upstairs and sat on his bed. He wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him come unraveled from a pointless memory of some asshole who wasn't here. He took some deep breaths and went to the desk. It was the same one that had been in the basement, but he didn't mind it too much. All he’d done here was eat and carve, and he pulled the sculpting tools from the largest drawer. It wasn't wood, but he could make do.

About an hour later he heard Tony on the stairs. His steps paused outside his door, but he must've thought better of it, because he turned around and went back to his room. Jethro looked at the clay in his hands and smashed it between his palms. Wood was solid, unforgiving, and if you screwed up, it was hell to fix, but once you fixed it, it stayed fixed. This clay was too damn easy to reshape and remold, sure it was easy to fix on the surface, but the core was so soft, the slightest touch could mess it all up. Jethro used to see himself as a piece of wood. No matter how people used and abused him, his core was strong, and with enough work he could fix himself. But now? Maybe working with clay was more appropriate. He was drawing strength from things around him, it was like a mask he wore, pretending to be the same man he once was. But then something small turned him into a mush of ruined clay.

Something like his owner offering him a beer in… in what?... Friendship? One hand dropped to his hip, absentmindedly scratching at the still-healing brand. No, not friendship. It was easier on this guy’s conscience if he thought Jethro was happy. Made his bleeding heart feel better about owning a person for life. Jethro settled into his anger and resentment, pulling it over himself like a warm blanket. He'd behave in this situation, because it was the best deal he’d gotten, but it didn't mean he had to like it. 


	26. Monday+1 0900

Tony rolled over and stretched, feeling his arms hit the headboard and his feet fall off the bed. There were times he cursed his decision against the California king with the extra few inches of length. The bitter scent of freshly brewing coffee made him groan and only make a cursory attempt to look presentable after hitting the head. He'd shower after caffeine.

As he turned the corner into the living room, he noticed his furniture had been pushed to the side of the room, and Jethro was doing push-ups at an impressive rate. His clothing was about what you’d expect: navy workout pants and one of the 5...wait, no, 4 now...white shirts. But watching the focus and intensity and fluid flexing of muscles was mesmerizing. Tony watched, his internal metronome keeping time, noting that Jethro was not slowing his pace as he progressed. Finally, when Tony found himself staring at the bead of sweat trailing down the tanned and toned bicep, he shook his head and strode loudly into the room.

Jethro jumped to his feet, obviously pissed. Tony threw his hands into the air and cocked an eyebrow. “Woah, dude, just getting coffee.”

Tony walked by, feeling Jethro watching him, wearing another pair of silk boxers. He knew how good he looked in them...pretty much every lover had told him so, unprompted, so he went with it and let his ass flex just a little more than necessary as he walked past. He didn't want anything to come of it, but hey, if he was gonna look, Tony would give him something to look at. Jethro, however, was more pissed at himself that he let some pretty boy cop sneak up on him like that. A smirk crossed his face, though, when he heard sputtering from the kitchen.

“God, what is this, tar?” DiNozzo shouted, dumping the coffee down the drain and wiping the droplets of hot liquid from his chest. Jethro didn’t respond, just poured another cup for himself and drained half in one gulp. “ugh,” Tony shuddered, pulling the carafe from the coffeemaker and holding it out. Jethro extended his cup and Tony refilled it, then dumped the last few ounces into the sink. All evidence of the beer from the night before was gone, and the sink and counter sparkled, with a clean dish cloth draped over the side of the sink. “OK, I’m gonna make some normal coffee now. We may need another coffeemaker if this is going to continue. But you’re buying.”  
  
Jethro swallowed his mouthful of coffee and lightly chewed on the inside of his lip. Tony hadn’t asked about the money, and he hadn’t brought it up, but if he was expected to pay for a coffeemaker…”with what money?”  
  
Tony turned, coffee grounds spilling out of the scoop in his hand, “Vance didn’t offer you a salary? I’ll kill him!”  
  
Jethro interrupted—“no, he did, but technically it’s your money.”  
  
Tony inhaled sharply, and finished setting the coffeemaker. “No, it’s not. You’re working, it’s yours. We’ll figure out bills together. If you’d rather, I can just charge you rent, that should cover things like groceries and utilities.”  
  
Jethro looked into his coffee mug, then back at DiNozzo. “You’re giving me a choice?”  
  
Tony snorted, “well, to some extent. Either you trust me to come up with a fair ‘rent’, or we hash it out together. Like you said, you’re not living off me.”  
  
Jethro nodded. “you tell me what you think is fair, and if I disagree, we hash it out?”  
  
Tony held out his hand in agreement, and Jethro shook it twice. But Jethro was uneasy when he almost smiled at the normality of the conversation. He wasn't supposed to _like_ this, and he definitely wasn't here to make friends, and he had actually _chewed_ on his lip like a child. Now he couldn’t help but notice Tony’s eyes lingering on the shirt he knew was sticking to his skin with sweat, and he was pretty sure he’d watched at least part of his morning workout. He quickly decided to push the subject, which wasn’t technically being insubordinate…although his idea of ‘technically’ had gotten him into trouble more than once with previous owners and overseers. When Tony turned to rinse his mug of the offending Marine coffee, Jethro stepped close behind him. Even though the man was slightly taller, Jethro had no trouble speaking close enough that he was sure Tony felt his breath on his neck. “Saw you watching me…”  
  
Tony flushed at the dark and husky tone, temporarily flustered and falling into a persona he knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t respond until he got his bearings, so he froze.  
  
“You’re attracted to me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Jethro’s hands rested on the counter in front of Tony, effectively pinning him in place, but barely touching. Tony closed his eyes and kept his breath slow and steady, and he clenched his teeth.  
  
As Jethro slowly leaned more of his body against Tony, he felt the muscles in front of him tense and push back. Not violently, but he recognized a warning when he felt it. “Doesn’t matter,” Tony said, pausing for a deep breath. He turned to the face just inches from his own and almost whispered, “Whether I am or I’m not, wouldn’t matter.”  
  
Jethro didn’t back down, though. He held his ground and felt a sneer curling his lip just a little, “it matters. I’m yours, aren’t I? You want me, you can take me, however you want.” He was expecting a response, but more along the lines of a joke, or maybe Tony would shove him away and run to his room, but he definitely didn’t expect to find himself shoved face-first against a wall, with Tony’s forearm on his neck and snarling in his ear.  
  
“You’ve got issues, I get that. But don’t you _dare_ talk to me like that again. I’m no prize, but I’ve never had someone in my bed who wasn’t a fully consenting adult.” He spit on the floor, as though just acknowledging the thought was contaminating his tongue. “Fifteen years you got locked up and beaten and god knows what else, but you made a choice that day, knowing it was a possibility. Not everyone gets a choice, Jethro. So no, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not going to take you in any way.”  
  
Jethro closed his eyes and tried pushing back, cursing himself for underestimating Tony, but he could still feel the tension and anger behind him and knew it would be a few more seconds before Tony was calm enough to release him. He could fight, Tony was down an arm and he’d probably get him down easily enough, but Tony also knew the combination to the gun safe, and Jethro wasn’t a fan of having guns pointed in his direction anymore.  
  
Finally, Tony pulled back, poured himself a cup of weak (in Jethro’s mind) coffee, added sugary creamer, and stalked wordlessly upstairs. Soon, Jethro heard the water running in the shower, and he shook his head. _Gonna get yourself in deep water_. He thought. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, he just wanted to get under this guy’s skin, and since flirting had done it before, he knew this would have gotten a reaction. He just wasn’t expecting that. This was more than just a guilty conscience. His words kept ringing in his head...”Not everyone gets a choice.” He must have a history there. Some slave girl born into it, only being owned because both her parents were, something like that. He brought his coffee to his room and sat at the desk until the water turned off. He waited, thinking Tony would barge in to give him another dressing down, but he didn’t.  
  
Tony’s footsteps went down the stairs…and then he heard a telltale creak as the basement door swung open. _Deep water_. Jethro thought. He’d let his alligator mouth overload his parakeet ass. Again. Before the shit could hit the fan, he pulled out the items he’d been gifted from his storage unit. He was fairly certain he’d lose them if DiNozzo put him back in the basement, so he steeled himself and opened the box first. Inside were all the small charms Kelly had put into his care packages. Mostly crafts, like she made in school—a doll made from an old fashioned clothespin and yarn, a necklace made from elbow macaroni and beads, a wallet-sized picture frame that was probably supposed to be simply glued popsicle sticks until she sanded the edges and carved her name into the bottom, and several more. Each had a corresponding letter in the box, plus one from Shannon. He held each in his hand, feeling the same ache he felt when he received them, knowing he was missing his little girl’s childhood. It hurt to see these again, it was easier to live in anger and pain so he didn’t have time or energy to think about his family. But he had to see them again, when he hadn’t looked at his wife’s handwriting or his daughter’s blossoming woodworking skill in over 15 years.  
  
An hour later, and he was fighting back the tears. He couldn’t do this for another 15 years. This wasn’t a life, constantly fighting against the powers that be, people ignoring that he used to be a whole person, pretending like he barely existed. He couldn’t go back to being the chained animal, even if it was his own smart mouth and resentful attitude that put him there. He brushed a hand over the cover of the photo album, promising to return and look it over later. He wouldn’t have this taken away again, even if it meant taking a hit to his own pride.  
  
Tony sat in the basement, now devoid of most of the evidence of what he’d stooped to last week. He’d asked some friends to put the bed back in his office, the desk in Jethro’s room, and bring his tools back down. Not that he ever used them, but they had come in handy once in a while. Joel, one of his father’s slaves, had taken an interest in him as a child, and taught him a few things about home repair, and the importance of being able to do something, even if you didn’t have to, and these were almost like a testament to that. He pulled out the bottle of liquor he’d been gifted from some bald FBI agent in the inter-agency secret santa last year and cracked the seal. He wasn’t a bourbon kind of guy, but right now, it was readily available.  
  
Joel had been kind and patient. One of the few black men his father allowed in the home, mostly because he was skilled at fixing even the most delicate things, but also because he was quiet about it. Senior hated to be interrupted, even if it was by someone doing his bidding. Tony was only about 8 when Joel first convinced him to help, just after his mom died, holding tools, tightening bolts, twisting wires, sanding rough edges, and it continued for years. Tony looked forward to spending time with the older gentleman, forgetting he was a slave, almost seeing him as a father figure. The cooks would smile and laugh, seeing the odd pair so intent on their duties—a pale brunette Italian boy in designer clothes and a tall dark man in stained and dusty coveralls—until his father noticed. Joel’s attentions were a respite from those of his father and his friends, and respite wasn’t something his father wanted for Tony. Joel was a branded slave, and a valuable asset. Senior threatened him, warned him to stay away from Tony, but Joel could never say no to the boy whose eyes were older than they should have been. Tony didn’t know it, but when he was twelve, he signed Joel’s death warrant when he told him his secret. The next day, Joel was taken to be put down, screaming obscenities at Senior as he was dragged off, Senior keeping a hand at the base of Tony’s neck and forcing him to watch. Yeah, he deserved a drink, even if it was before breakfast.  
  
Jethro opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles, then headed for the basement, hoping he wasn't walking into his own dungeon. As he descended the stairs, he saw Tony sitting on an old rusty stool, fingering a small glass of bourbon. The room was bare, and didn't look anything like it had last week. Tony looked up at him, and he held out the beer as a peace offering.  


“Thought you didn't drink?” He asked, but Jethro turned his bottle--the root beer Tony had bought a few weeks ago and promptly forgotten about. His voice was calm enough that Jethro relaxed a little and leaned against the wall.

After several minutes and half their bottles later, Jethro spoke. “I used to joke that the second 'b’ in my last name stood for bastard.” It was the closest thing to an apology he'd give, and he hoped Tony would realize that.

Tony snorted, “gee, wouldn't have guessed from your sunny disposition.”

Jethro nodded. “Actually did mean to ask if…” he glanced at Tony, who shook his head and stood, facing away.

Tony crossed his arms, kept his feet steady and his face still. Curtly, he replied, “Look. I meant it before. I enjoy the human form, male or female, and you're attractive, but that doesn't matter. You’re a slave. You're _my_ slave. You’ve got no right to refuse me, and maybe I made some piss-poor decisions when you first came here that made you think otherwise, but I won’t ever have someone in my bed who can’t say ‘no’. I'm not my father.”  
  
Jethro exhaled sharply with a “Ha!” He shook his head, “do I look like someone who can’t say ‘no’?” 

Tony finished his beer and reached for the bourbon. “I couldn't know that for sure.” Tony sighed and tossed back another shot and shuddered. “God, this is awful.” _Then again, drinking like this before 11am is pretty awful too,_ he thought.

Jethro watched the younger man toss back the liquor like he was drinking water. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope. You wanna talk about why you don't drink?”

“Nope.”

“Ok then.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not sure how it came across, but basically, Jethro doesn't WANT to be comfortable with Tony, and anytime he feels like he's getting something good, that it's too good to be true, or a trap, or something, so he lashes out. Even if it's just his own behavior that he's pissed at. He's too vulnerable if he thinks it'll be ok, and it's easier for him mentally to sabotage himself. But he's trying, I think.


	27. Monday+1 1200

“So, we should probably eat.” Tony mumbled, slightly tipsy and slurred.

“It's lunch time. Sandwiches?” Jethro answered, walking toward the stairs. Tony followed, and soon found himself at the table while Jethro threw together a pretty good sub with what he had on hand. “Water.” Jethro said, putting the cup almost in Tony's hand. He tried really hard not to feel guilty for setting DiNozzo off like this. Didn't work.

“We should talk about the logistics here,” Tony said, after taking his time eating and drinking and finally feeling less loopy and lightheaded. “I've never lived with anyone else, so I'm just gonna give my ideas and you tell me if they sound OK.”

Jethro just nodded, making another pot of coffee--a little less strong this time, but still drinkable.

“Here’s my thoughts on finances. Half the utilities, cable, internet, and some towards the mortgage.”

“Half that too. I'm living here.” Jethro interjected.

“Ok. Plus the cost to add another phone line to my cell plan. We’ll figure out groceries and stuff as we go, and if you want your car, those expenses are on you.”

Jethro jumped at the mention of his car. “How did you know about that?”

Tony smiled, “you just told me. But mostly I figured it out given the size of your storage unit.” Jethro's gaze turned to ice, but before he could say anything, Tony continued, “There are ways to get you a driver's license back, if you want it”

Jethro was wary, “I can't own anything.”

Tony sighed, “legally, no. But I'll do what I can.” He stood and took his and Jethro's plates to the sink and washed them and the utensils. When he turned, Jethro was looking confused. “What? You ‘cooked,’ I clean. Gimme the glass.” He held out his hand for the cup in front of Jethro.

When Tony was done, the counter cleaned and sanitized, he sat back down. “One more thing. I don't know how you'll feel about it, but I don't use the basement for anything. Or the tools. You mentioned you liked woodworking, so...you're welcome to use the space, if you wanted.”

Jethro nodded, letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth. “You trust me with a hacksaw now? What's to stop me from running again?”

Tony smiled, and in a poor estimation of a Cuban accent, he said, “The eyes, Chico. They never lie.” He pointed his index and middle fingers at Jethro’s face, as if he were waiting for something. After it was obvious he wasn't getting a response, he sighed. “Tony Montana? Scarface? I need to educate you. Apparently you grew up under a rock. Moving on. I figure, if you're gonna kill me in my sleep, you don't need a hacksaw to do it. So what do you say?”

Jethro wasn’t a fan of the basement, obviously, but it was a decent work area. Clean, open, high ceilings, decently ventilated, and he could even clean up if he was too dusty to make it upstairs. “What do you want me to build?” There had to be a catch. DiNozzo was going to put him to work some way or another.  
  
Then Tony smiled. Not in victory, or contemplation of projects, but relief. “Your projects, your call, Chief. Just make sure you can get it out of the basement when you’re done.” No sneaky requests, no passive aggressive hemming and hawing, just…relief.   
  
“Why?” Jethro had never been offered anything without having to give something in return. This felt wrong.   
  
“Everyone deserves a hobby, man. I got my movies and music—which, by the way, if you tell anyone that you heard me play, I’ll kick your ass—Abby has bowling, McGeek has his computer games, Ducky has cricket or some other weird Scottish sport, so if you want someplace to build stuff, it’s yours.” His tone was actually serious. Even the promise of an ass-kicking.   
  
Jethro didn’t trust it, he was sure he’d have to pay for it sometime, but he accepted the answer and nodded. He glanced around and noticed a few things that could use replacing. “Your entertainment center leans…a lot.”   
  
Tony shrugged, “Ikea is about the limit of my building capabilities, and even that is shaky.”

“Why do you have so many tools, then? They're good quality, so I'm guessing you know a little something about what you're doing.” The tools downstairs were not the tools of a man who couldn't assemble an Ikea shelf.

“Friend of mine tried teaching me. He died a long time ago, and when I got this house I wanted to try to remember...but I guess I was too young,” Tony was quiet but tense.  
  
Jethro closed his mouth and nodded slowly, waiting for Tony to decide whether he was going to say more. He stayed quiet on the subject, his body language still tense but he took a deep breath and moved on. “You need more stuff. I didn’t buy much, mostly because I wanted your input. Let me know where you’d like to go, and we’ll go. Make a list or whatever, and you can pay me back when you get paid.”   
  
“I can wait.” Jethro tried to protest, but Tony waved him off.   
  
“No, it’s government, we’ve got a pay lag. You’ll work for 2 weeks, then the paycheck for those two weeks comes 2 weeks later. You’re not wearing the same 2 pairs of pants and 3 shirts for a month, and Vance will punish me somehow if you show up in uniform again. We’ll go today or tomorrow. Clothes, toiletries, books, hell, we can even hit Home Depot if you want to get started on something to build.” Tony wouldn’t listen to Jethro’s protests and left him at the table, stunned. He’d pushed and hit a big nerve this morning, convinced he’d be thrown back into the basement or knocked around for it, but instead he was given a workshop and going shopping. It felt wrong, it was too much, there had to be more. Tony was gone, he heard his phone ring and he went upstairs, but Jethro stayed in his seat. His heart rate was elevated, his breathing shallow, but he had nothing that caused this. There was no threat, there was no beating, there was no abuse, but he was freaking out. He hated freaking out. It made him feel weak, so he stood up and started pacing. He stalked out the back door to the yard and paced some more, his brain spinning with pointless noise.   
  
“Go for a run?” Jethro jumped and almost snarled when he heard Tony call out from the back door. He nodded, realizing that after the incident this morning he had never showered or changed. Gross, but convenient, as Tony was wearing a similar outfit and tossed him a sweatshirt. “It’s a little chilly, your call.”   
  
Jethro shook his head, placing the sweatshirt on the back of a chair as they made their way through the house. “Wait…your father?” The goons were put away, the FBI handling the assault on a federal officer charges, but he knew Tony’s father was still an issue.   
  
“Brought in today. That was the phone call. I might actually start to like this FBI guy who gave me the bourbon—he dragged Senior in and has him sitting in a room right now. So grab your ID paper and let’s go. You look like you need it.” And then he was out the door, stretching on the front lawn.   
  
Jethro pulled his dog tags over his head, tucking them into his shirt, folded the ID paperwork into his pocket, and settled into a steady rhythm alongside his…companion. Right now, he didn't feel like an owner. He’d dealt with younger owners before, or at least the adult children of owners, both his and their friends, and they were all self-important bastards, trying to prove they were better than everyone, and were often worse to him than their older counterparts. He couldn’t get a clear read on how old Anthony DiNozzo Junior was, but he guessed around 35. Young enough to be young, but old enough to know his way around the world.   
  
After almost an hour, the two men were spent and headed straight for their respective bathrooms. Jethro’s brain hadn’t stopped working the whole run, but it had stopped its frantic spinning. It was easier to keep himself under control if his body was focused, and the running let him really think about his situation. He still felt like there was something else coming, but in the meantime, he could get used to this. He’d probably have to pay for it later, somehow, but he’d try to enjoy the almost-freedom while it lasted.   
  
In the shower, he thought about the different ways he’d provoked DiNozzo, and how the man had never really hurt him, even after choking him unconscious. He’d been the aggressor this whole time, and yet here he was, coming back from a run as if everything were normal and easy. The younger man had melted, briefly, against the counter when Jethro pinned him, then just as easily forced him against the wall. He’d seen him naked and vulnerable, but only seemed attracted to him at his best—in uniform, working out, or relaxed and comfortable after a shower. He’d had lascivious owners and friends of owners, but they always wanted him as weak as possible. To overpower someone like him was an accomplishment, even if it took several people and alcohol or drugs. And even though part of him could tell DiNozzo wasn’t like that, and had proven it several times, he felt sick any time he realized he enjoyed the attention.   
  
He toweled off and slipped into his clothes—jeans and a polo worked. He tried to get his mind back to the present. Shopping. He hated shopping, always had. Not that he had much opportunity to do so in the past 15 years, but even before then it was one thing he never looked forward to. Although a trip to find some lumber for a project was exciting. He sat at his desk and started making a list.   
  
Tony stepped into the shower and let the water rush over him. He probably shouldn’t have run for so long after that many drinks this morning, but it felt good to get it all out. It felt good to have a real talk with the man he’d be living with, at least for the foreseeable future. It felt good to run together without conflict or conversation, just _being_. And now, all his anger and frustration was back where they belonged—packed up in the back of his mind.

This morning’s shower had been angry and cold, just trying to get the sound of Jethro’s accusation and his father’s laughter out of his head. But now, he couldn’t help but think about how it felt, actually having Jethro against him, feeling his breath hot on his neck, his strong arms on either side of him. It wasn’t often that Tony felt weak in the knees, but that was certainly one of those times. He’d been grateful for the control over his body then, but now, with the warm water and weakness in his legs from the run, he felt himself harden quickly.

He ran his fingers down his stomach to his growing erection and held it tight. If Jethro were Free, and they'd met somewhere, anywhere, else, he’d have wrestled him to the bed days ago. He started stroking himself, picturing how it might have happened. Naked, passionate, each vying for dominance. He knew he would lose that battle, but he never gave it up without a fight, and only to those who really deserved it. He felt himself pressed into the mattress and pictured Jethro's hand stroking him. The thought alone made him moan into the empty room, and he came quickly.


	28. Monday+1 2100

They decided to go shopping the next day, and after dinner Jethro retreated to the basement alone. His body rebelled, seeing the cold, empty space as a symbol of his status, but his mind pushed him forward. He ran his hands along the sturdy bench, which, judging by the age of the wood, had been there for several decades. He made a mental inventory of the tools available, and noted what he might need to add. The longer he inspected the room, the easier it felt. Until he saw the bourbon. On a shelf, right at eye level. He thought about dumping it down the sink, or bringing it upstairs and burying it in DiNozzo’s liquor cabinet, but he paused. It was a demon he’d have to face, sooner or later, so he might as well leave it. He found a measuring tape and got the dimensions of the room, as well as the dimensions of the exit. He had some ideas that would be damn difficult to achieve, but he felt a smile creep onto his face. If he could manage to keep his ass out of trouble, this could be a good thing.  
  
Tony finished putting the leftovers into the fridge—Jethro had already cleaned everything else. He washed and dried his hands and looked at his piano. He hadn’t played as much since he realized he had an audience, and his fingers were restless. He sighed and sat on the bench, running his fingers gently across the keys. As usual, he began plinking out a simple, improvised melody with his right hand, letting himself get lost in the sound. His left hand joined soon thereafter, adding harmonies and chords to the mix, until he felt inspired. Usually a song came to him, something he wanted to play or sing that would help him unwind from the day, but sometimes his inspiration was to make his own song. Tonight, he felt himself drawn to a piece he’d heard recently. He tried to play around it, to maybe write something, but anything else felt off, and he fumbled more than he’d care to admit. He gave in, but tried to keep the singing quiet.

> _Everything has its season_  
>  _Everything has its time_  
>  _Show me a reason_  
>  _And I’ll soon show you a rhyme._  
>    
>  _Cats fit on the window sill_  
>  _Children fit in the show_  
>  _So why do I feel I don’t fit in_  
>  _Anywhere I go?_
> 
> _Rivers belong where they can ramble_  
>  _Eagles belong where they can fly_  
>  _I’ve got to be where my spirit can run free_  
>  _Gotta find my corner, of the sky._

He slipped into the music then, forgetting about his audience, forgetting his apprehension of getting so lost in his own mind that he wouldn’t notice what was going on around him. He opened up, feeling the music deep in his heart, his voice carrying throughout the house. 

> _Every man has his daydreams_  
>  _Every man has his goal_  
>  _People like the way dreams have of_  
>  _Sticking to the soul_  
>    
>  _Thunderclouds have their lightning_  
>  _Nightingales have their song_  
>  _But don’t you see I want my life_  
>  _To be something more than long._  
>    
>  _Rivers belong where they can ramble_  
>  _Eagles belong where they can fly_  
>  _I’ve got to be where my spirit can run free_  
>  _Gotta find my corner, of the sky._

Jethro climbed the stairs quietly—skipping over the creaky stair—and stood in the doorway. Just a few days ago, he’d stood in the same position, poised to attack the man so oblivious to his surroundings. This time, though, he just leaned on the door frame. He had to know how deep he went when he got like this—that’s how Jethro had snuck up on him. He’d been cautious since then, playing the occasional instrumental, but none of it had the passion and heart he was showing tonight. Jethro shook his head. In less than 48 hours, DiNozzo was sitting here, his back to Jethro, completely engrossed, and just trusting that Jethro wouldn’t repeat what he’d already proven he could do. The man was either stupid, or _really_ confident in his ability to read people. 

> _So many men seem destined_  
>  _To settle for something small_  
>  _But I won’t rest_  
>  _‘Til I know I’ll have it all_  
>  _So don’t ask where I’m going_  
>  _Just listen when I’m gone_  
>  _Far away you’ll hear me singing_  
>  _Softly to the dawn._  
>    
>  _Rivers belong where they can ramble_  
>  _Eagles belong where they can fly_  
>  _I’ve got to be where my spirit can run free_  
>  _Gotta find my corner, of the sky_

Jethro gasped as the man’s voice hit the final note, never expecting such a pure sound in that octave. He thought about applauding, but given his comment about not sharing with anyone that he’d even heard him play, he figured the singing especially was pretty private for him. So he turned and retreated to the basement for a few minutes, until he heard the piano again, but softer this time and back to a simple melody. Only then did he return to the upper level of the house.  
  
“So, still shopping tomorrow?” Tony asked, not bothering to turn around. The 5th stair creaked, every time, so he had warning that Jethro was coming this time. He didn’t mention that he also knew he’d been there just 5 minutes prior.  
  
“Yeah. G’night DiNozzo.” Jethro passed behind Tony and headed up the stairs.  
  
“Night, Gibbs.” He smiled at the falter in the steps behind him, wondering how long it’d been since he’d had someone call him by his family name in private.  
  
*****  
“Sears? Really? I’m offering you anywhere to shop, and you pick SEARS?” Tony stared at him, mouth agape.  
  
“Did I stutter? One stop shopping. Grab some clothes, new razors, a few tools, then we only have to stop for wood.” Jethro had his list in hand and was ready to go. This didn’t have to take all day, but the disappointed look on DiNozzo’s face told him he had almost wanted it to.  
  
“OK, but really, think about it…a nice tailored suit would look great—“  
  
“Do I _need_ a suit?” Jethro interrupted him.  
  
Tony’s face fell. “Well, not really, I mean, I just thought you might want….I dunno, something really nice.”  
  
Jethro stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “I appreciate it, but clothes are just clothes. I don’t give a damn, honestly. We’ll splurge on your entertainment center.”  
  
Tony shook his head. “No.”  
  
Jethro’s eyes narrowed. “No? No what?” He tried not to think the worst, but he couldn’t help it. He really hoped DiNozzo wasn’t taking the woodshop away already. He’d just gotten his hopes up.  
  
“No, if we’re going to splurge on something, it’s going to be something for you. I splurge on myself enough. So if you want fancy wood, then make something for yourself. Or at least let me get you something nice to wear.” Tony folded his arms and glared at Jethro.  
  
He was relieved, but really? This was going to be impossible. “Fine. Buy me a damn tie,” Jethro said as he grabbed his tags and reached for the door. Tony smiled in victory as he decided where to bring Jethro for his tie. Before reaching the car, he texted his regular guy and made an appointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cover of the song:  
> https://youtu.be/x3jlCwoWOWc


	29. Tuesday+1 1400

“You’re not even going to try it on?” Tony seemed offended.  
  
“Why? Large is Large, a shirt is a shirt.” Jethro shrugged as he pulled some shirts off the shelf. Mostly polos, but he grabbed some button ups for variety.  
  
“Oh, god, this is painful.” Tony whined.  
  
“Hey, YOU insisted. Suck it up.” Jethro threw over his shoulder as he knelt down to grab a pair of pants from the rack. His knee popped on the way down and he hissed.  
  
“You OK?” Tony’s whining turned to concern.  
  
“Yeah. That happens when you get old.” Jethro grunted as he pushed himself back up. He ignored Tony’s kicked puppy look and walked over to the sport coats.  
  
“No, no, no, just no…you CANNOT get that. Please.” He actually sounded like he was in pain, as Jethro shrugged the tweed coat over his current polo.  
  
“I’m working in an office, I should have at least one sport coat.” Jethro had never worked in an office, but he’d known plenty of people who had. Although even he had to admit this one in particular was pretty awful.  
  
“No, you need a suit. Seriously, let me…” Tony threw up his hands in defeat. “Never mind. I’ll go sit with the other guys over there and wait for you to be done.” He indicated a few chairs near the fitting rooms with two middle aged men trying to not look bored. Jethro smirked as he hung the coat back on the rack, watching the younger man walk away. He did need a coat, but that one was only to get DiNozzo to leave him alone. The incessant yabba yabba was driving him nuts. This was one thing he never liked doing with Shannon either. She constantly tried to get him into things _she_ thought he’d look good in.  
  
Did he just compare this to shopping with Shannon? Jethro clenched his jaw and shook his head. No, this was nothing like that. Although it was amusing watching DiNozzo pout. As he exited the clothing section, he felt a tap on his shoulder.  
  
“At least try on one outfit?” DiNozzo came from behind him and rummaged through the clothes in the cart. “Thank God,” he whispered when the horrible coat wasn’t amongst them. “Here…let me see. Humor me?” He handed Jethro black pants, a black button up shirt, and the grey sport coat.  
  
“Fine. And then we get the tools.” Jethro grabbed the clothes and strode to the fitting rooms. He’d never put black pants with black shirt, this was going to look… _Huh_ …it looked good. He threaded his belt through the loops of the pants and stepped out to where DiNozzo was standing. “Happy?”  
  
Tony twirled his finger, indicating Jethro should spin. He rolled his eyes and did it, just as a saleswoman came toward them. “oh, my, that black really compliments you!” She blushed when he looked at her, “I mean, probably anything would compliment…I, um…sorry, you military types just make me kinda tongue tied.” Jethro was confused, until he remembered he still wore his dog tags outside his shirt.  
  
“Thanks,” he said, a half smile on his face. Flirting was a skill he hadn’t needed much in the past 10 years or so, but he could tell when he was being flirted _with_ .  
  
“But I think you should go down a size on the pants. Might show off more of your…um…assets?” She blushed again, taking a long look at his ass and smiling.  
  
“My thoughts exactly.” Tony said, as he produced another pair of the black pants he had already grabbed from the rack. Jethro looked at the two of them and sighed. When he returned, he barely waited for Tony to spin his finger again before turning around.  
  
“Better.” The both of them said at the same time. Jethro rolled his eyes and stomped back into the room to get back into his jeans. By the time he returned, the two collaborators were going through what he’d chosen, and already switched all the pants to the smaller size. He did agree, they fit better—he hadn’t purchased his own clothes in a while, and figured he would have widened somewhat in 15 years.  
  
“I didn’t pick all of these.” He grumbled as he looked at the clothes in the cart.  
  
Tony sighed, “OK, I picked up these two shirts and thought you might want to reconsider those two. Just trying to keep you more current, and not stuck in 1992. Everything else is the same, I just rearranged them.”  
  
Jethro shook his head, but didn’t protest. Nothing there was bad, although he was questioning the pale blue shirt. They all looked good together, though, so he accepted Tony's advice and returned the two shirts, keeping the new ones. “Tools.” Tony nodded. This time, Jethro didn’t need to debate with Tony. He grabbed the three things he needed and was done in 5 minutes. As they were checking out, he noticed something. “You agreed to get me a tie.” He smirked, thinking he had gotten out of that deal.  
  
Tony shook his head as he swiped his credit card, “oh, I’m not buying a tie at Sears. You’re coming with me to my guy. He’ll help you pick out a tie. And maybe a suit to match.” He grabbed the bags and pushed the cart away as Jethro started fuming. He hated shopping.  
  
*****  
  
“These things don’t have prices. Why don’t they have prices?” Jethro glared at DiNozzo. “I’m a probie, remember?”  
  
“Ah, Mr. DiNozzo, so nice to see you again!” A smaller man came gliding across the floor and shook Tony’s hand, “And I take it this is your _friend_ ?” He shook Jethro’s hand, then pulled him across the floor to a pedestal in the back of the store. Before Jethro could object, a tape measurer was being pulled across his shoulders, down his arms, and he shot daggers at DiNozzo when the man unceremoniously measured his inseam. “OK, I’ll be right back. Wait here.”  
  
The man started looking through his racks as Tony approached with a grin. “So maybe I told him more than a tie. My gift, call it a birthday present, since I’m late on that.”  
  
Jethro tried to protest, but Tony shook his head. “Just let me, OK?” He tried to keep the goofy grin on his face, but his eyes told Jethro he was serious. “You’ll need a suit on occasion, so at least make it a good one. Your choice, whichever one you want. He knows my price range. If you really just want a tie, we can get one and go, though.” Apparently this meant a lot to him, so, with a sigh, Jethro pursed his lips and stood on the pedestal feeling like a petulant child.  
  
After several changes, Jethro looked at his image in appreciation. Compared with the simple and generic clothes he’d purchased earlier, he felt a hell of a lot…hotter. He huffed and turned to check out his ass. The fabric was a much higher quality, and fell around him perfectly. “It’ll look better after we have it tailored, sir.” The small man, whose name was Michael, at his feet told him, through the pins between his teeth.  
  
“Looks pretty good right now,” he said, and Michael smiled, but continued hemming. One thing about today he had to admit was similar to shopping with Shannon...she was often right.  
  
“OK, so if you like this one, sirs, then we’re all set!” Michael stood and clapped his hands together. “In my opinion, you look downright gorgeous in this grey. Imagine a dark blue shirt to bring out your eyes? Oh my!” he fanned himself with his hand. “I may have to ask Mr. DiNozzo here for your number…”  
  
Tony laughed and wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulder. “Down boy, let’s go settle the bill while he gets changed, OK?” He tried not to sound possessive, but judging by Jethro’s raised eyebrows, he wasn’t sure he was successful.  
  
Tony followed his GPS to a place called “Vienna Hardwoods.” When he suggested Home Depot, he’d gotten a look that was suspiciously similar to the look he’d given Jethro over his decision to shop at Sears. “I’m not building a porch, DiNozzo, I need real wood.” As they entered, Tony looked downright lost. Probably the same way Jethro had felt at Billy Reid. He stuck close to Jethro, smiling as the man ran his fingers along the unfinished wood in front of him, the way Tony might finger a fine silk. In the end, he thought about the furnishings and moldings in DiNozzo’s home and decided on Cherry. He ordered what he needed, and arranged for delivery the following day, since it wouldn’t fit, uncut, in the Prius.  
  
They picked up Chinese for dinner, and Tony offered Jethro a soda as he opened his beer. They sat at the table, passing the boxes back and forth, for all intents and purposes resembling just a couple of friends having takeout, and then heading to the living room for a movie. After Jethro cleared the table and Tony rinsed the bottles for recycling, Jethro went to sit on the couch. “No, I picked last time. You pick this one.” Tony plopped onto the couch, second beer in hand, cold bottle of water on a coaster for Jethro.  
  
Today had been fun, but Jethro was starting to feel a little…nervous. He knew DiNozzo had enjoyed today, as had he, but in the process, since nobody had realized their legal connection, he was pretty sure the whole owner/slave dynamic had been forgotten for Tony. He needed to remind him. His owner had the privilege of choosing to ignore the legalities at play in this house. He didn’t have that luxury. So he chose a fairly appropriate movie for the situation. He put it into the DVD player before DiNozzo could see the title. As the credits began, he laughed uncomfortably. “Django Unchained?”  
  
Jethro shrugged, “seemed good.”  
  
Tony twitched his eyes as if to say “alright” and turned his attention back to the movie. Tony seemed to have watched this one before, as he gripped the remote and kept watching Jethro at some of the more gruesome scenes, and fast forwarded through the worst of them. Jethro missed one scene entirely, but given what he’d seen in the first 0.5 seconds of a man hanging by his ankles, he was pretty certain he didn't need to see the rest.

It helped Jethro's opinion of the movie that the slave wins in the end, although the killing of the kindly owner did make him uncomfortable. As the credits rolled, he looked over and noticed that Tony had fallen asleep. Part of him wanted to just leave him there, but another part thought about how much his own back would hurt if he slept in that position. He figured he’d be nice, and swung his feet onto the couch, which prompted the tall man to slide down and face the back cushions without waking. Before retiring to his room, he pulled a blanket from the downstairs closet and covered him up.  
  
He was getting downright domestic. It was awkward.


	30. Wednesday+1 0900

“We should talk,” Tony said over the crunching of his cereal.

Jethro lowered the newspaper and looked at Tony over the top of the readers he’d purchased the day before. “That's never good.” He’d heard the man on the phone that morning, and now Tony was nervous and wouldn't look at him. This smelled bad.

“It’s not bad. You won't like it, but it’s not bad.” Tony stood and put his bowl in the sink.

That didn't give Jethro much confidence. He swallowed hard and kept looking at the newspaper without actually reading.

“I talked to McGee this morning.”

Jethro took a deep breath and tried to listen to the rational part of his brain. He’d have to work with McGee. ‘Master Tim.’ The trainer with no moral objection to slavery. He _needed_ to work with him. But a smaller and disproportionately loud part of his brain was trying to tell him he’d done something to piss DiNozzo off. Yesterday was some kind of mind fuck.

“He’s coming over this afternoon, and I need you two to be civil.”

Jethro exhaled. Rational. ”OK.” He flipped the paper back up and went back to the article he was reading.

Tony turned and looked at Jethro. “Seriously. I can't have a team where I can't trust everyone to watch everyone else’s backs. And that goes for you two too.”

Jethro sighed and put the paper down on the table. “You want me to sing Kumbaya? No thanks. Work is work, I don't need to socialize with him.” He looked at Tony and leaned back in his chair.

“Hey, I treated you like shit, and you're giving _me_ a shot.” Tony said, putting his hands on his hips.

Jethro stood so he was almost on the same level as DiNozzo. “First, I don't have much of a choice. Second…” Jethro paused, then sighed. “Second, you're not a slaver.”

Tony blinked a few times in surprise. He'd spent the last week and a half trying to convince Jethro he wasn't _really_ a slaver, but the man obviously thought differently, until now. But Tony's guilt over the whole situation brought him back to the brand. He inhaled deeply and continued, “And yet, those are _my_ initials that are burned on your hip. If you can look past _that_ to treat me civil, then give him a little leeway.” Jethro didn't budge.  “He was only doing what I asked.”

“And that makes it better? That you went to him for advice on how to _handle_ your new slave?” Jethro was plain old pissed, just thinking about him. “Let me guess, that spanking bench was a gift from him?”

Tony’s face flushed, but he kept his head up. Jethro might as well know. “Yes, it was. Several years ago. When we were together.”

It was Jethro's turn to be surprised. “So, what, the two of you would bring people in here--”

“No. Just us.” Tony waited for the light bulb to go off. He smirked when he saw it.

Jethro stepped back, eyes first wide in realization, then narrowed. “So you're telling me that this _bullshit_ I've spent 15 years trying to escape, you've been recreating voluntarily?!”

Tony took the opening to explain not only himself, but a little bit about McGee. “No. Not even close. You spent 15 years trying to escape abuse, torture, and the knowing that you could never leave or disobey. We, however, explore parts of ourselves that maybe we wouldn't in a 'vanilla’ relationship.” 

Jethro still looked disgusted, “And being chained to that bench WASN'T abuse? Once you were locked on, you could've just left or disobeyed? Bullshit, I know, I tried to get out of it.”

Tony closed the distance between them. “Jethro, I made a choice to give Tim a level of control most people don't ever get. I trusted him. And if anything was _ever_ more than I could handle, I had a safe word. If I said it once, no matter how quietly or what was happening, it would stop. As for _why;_ I do this for two reasons. One is purely physical. There is a fine line between pleasure and pain, and I have gotten _very_ good at walking that line, on both sides.” He wanted to touch the man in front of him, to show him how it felt to be on that line, even for just a moment, but he slid his hands into his pockets.

“The other reason is that sometimes you need to lose control, or have it, depending on which side you're on. When I was with Tim, I had just gotten my team, it was up to me to pick my probies, train them, and to solve some of the toughest cases NCIS gets. Franks left after giving me just 2 weeks as SFA. It was all on me, and I had to bear that responsibility. But when I came home, I could leave it all at the door. I could be taken care of and I knew I didn't have to make any more decisions. It was freeing. And the opposite was true for Tim. You've seen the personality he portrays at work, and he had no power there.”

“Poor him.” Jethro mumbled, but Tony continued, as calmly as he could.

“He’s not like my father. His father is Navy, very strict, and he always had slaves growing up. But his dad was all about discipline, not punishment, and definitely not abuse. When he graduated high school and went to college, he saw what other owners and trainers did to their slaves and he wanted to stop it from inside. The worst are the so-called 'intimacy’ trainers, and Tim thought he could be a better one. That if people are going to be sent that way anyway, maybe he could help them learn instead of just breaking them. He only accepted people he thought were suited, who might be able to learn to get pleasure from it too.”

Jethro snarled, “pleasure? From being chained and beaten and raped day in and day out? He’s kind.”

Tony got angry then. “Do I agree with some of the choices he made when he was young? No. But I can see his point. If someone is going to be sent away for retraining or to be a sex slave, why not try to save at least some of them the worst of it? If it wasn't Tim, it would be someone else, and considering most trainer’s opinions on 'breaking’ slaves, Tim was the best choice for most. He's a good Dom, to slaves and free alike.”

“Is that what you wanted from _me_? When you called him?” Jethro had to ask.

“Never. Believe me, I _did_ almost leave our relationship behind when he told me what he used to do. Like I said, I can see why he made the choice he did, given his background, but I sure as hell don't have to agree with it.”

“Ok.” Jethro said, after a pause, and turned and sat back at the table.

“OK?” Tony asked, sitting across from Jethro again.

“I'll give him some leeway. _Some._ ” He responded as he flipped the newspaper open and resumed reading.

*****

“So, where is he?” McGee asked as he shut the front door behind him.

“Basement,” Tony responded, “his shipment of wood got here about an hour ago, so he’s busy sorting and dealing with it.”

“Tony, I'm not sure this is a good idea.” McGee whispered, glancing at the door to the basement.

“What, Tim? What isn't a good idea?” Tony faced him and crossed his arms.

“Jesus, Tony, the man is a killer. I mean, I get why. I probably would've eaten my gun instead of getting justice, to be honest. But he went all international vigilante. Oh yeah, and **he choked you out in your own living room just a few days ago**!” Mcgee’s whisper turned into a sharp hiss, “now you're giving him tools and taking away the rules and basically turning his world upside down? That's **_dangerous_** _._ You know it.”

Tony didn't respond for several seconds. Then he straightened himself and smiled, pulling on the mask he usually reserved for work. Calmly, he replied. “Timmy, Timmy, Timmy. You know what's dangerous? Working on a team where we can't _all_ trust each other. He’s on the team, and that's my call. If you can't watch his six just like you do mine or Todd, then that's a problem.”

McGee knew there was no arguing. “Tony. I'll keep the team safe, but I'm worried about you at _home_ .” He took a risk and stepped into Tony's space, reaching a hand to his face. “I know we said we were done. I'm fine with that. Doesn't mean I don't still care, OK?” He stroked Tony’s cheek with his thumb, smiling lightly as his boss leaned into the touch out of habit. “I don't know him from Adam, but I know you. _You_ are what's important to me, it's _your_ six I'm watching. If it means being suspicious of this slave, then fine. I'll take him being pissed at me any day if it keeps you safer.” His voice had turned to a low hum, as he tried to explain himself. “You’re a big badass cop who can take down pretty much any bad guy I've ever met. But your heart is so goddamn big you want to see the good in everyone. Hell, you still talk to that worthless father of yours.” He sighed. He hated how Tony had acted for days whenever he’d talked to his father. He knew things were really bad in the years following his mother’s death, but he could never get him to talk about it. He pulled Tony close and rested his forehead on Tony's. “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Tony closed his eyes and sighed. “Tim, trust my gut, ok? I'm glad you're worried, and thank you for the concern,” Talking helped him push back away from Tim’s quasi-embrace, “but what I need now is for you two to not be bastards to each other. I need you to treat him like a regular probie. Just trust me.”

McGee sighed. “Ok. Have you had this conversation with Todd yet?” Tony laughed. “I'll take that as a no. She won't like it either.”

“Yeah, but she listens to me better than you do. Usually.” Tony smiled.

As their banter continued to grow more light-hearted, Jethro gently shut the door to the basement. He wasn't sure how to process that conversation. Part of him had to respect the kid just watching his boss’s six. There was still the part that was disgusted at his actions before, but it seemed to be quieting down, now that he’d seen the two actually together. It wasn't that he hated Jethro, he just was protecting Tony and Jethro was the unknown. A possible threat to his family.


	31. Wednesday+1 1800

“How do you like your steak?” Jethro called, without looking at the two men in the kitchen. He’d agreed to make steaks as a peace offering, after Tony prodded him. They agreed to make the potatoes and...salad. Must be Tim’s influence. Tony ate decently, but generally he preferred cooked vegetables. Tim looked a little soft around the middle, so maybe he was self-conscious,  Jethro smiled to himself.

“Both medium, or medium rare, and are you sure about this?” Tony came into the room and looked suspiciously at the grate over the logs in the fireplace.

“Yes. Now get me a beer, would ya?” Jethro looked up at him as he stoked the flames.

“A beer?” Tony was shocked.

“For the steak. Can't pour cold beer on a hot steak. Set it on the mantel to warm up. Drink half if you want, flat doesn't matter.” He stood and stretched, shaking his leg to realign his knee after squatting in front of the fireplace. Tony left the room just as Tim came in. They stood in awkward silence avoiding eye contact until Tony returned. Neither man wanted to get into another staring match after being 'spoken to’ by their boss.

“Here you go. Brought the meat too...i gotta see this,” Tony said as he came back into the room, steaks in his good hand and half a beer in the other. “Hand me a coaster, Tim, would ya?”

Jethro smiled in appreciation of Tony's protectiveness over his finely finished mantle. No water rings there. He took the platter from Tony’s hand and dropped the steaks on the grate. “Cowboy steaks. Used to make 'em with my dad, then when I took my girls camping.” His breath caught as he thought of his time spent camping with his girls. Steaks, vegetables wrapped in tin foil, s'mores, whittling sticks into cartoon characters. Laughing and dancing around the fire to whatever cassette they'd left in the small pink boombox. Making love under the stars while Kelly slept in the tent. He stood again and brought the platter to the kitchen, gripping the end of the counter hard for a few moments to collect himself before returning to the living room.

Dinner went well, the younger men groaning in appreciation at the best steaks they'd had in a very long time. Jethro tried not to let on how much he was enjoying it as well--he hadn't had a proper steak in well over a decade. Afterwards, Tony pulled 4 John Wayne films from his collection to choose from, and they decided on ‘Hatari’. Not as popular as some of his westerns, but still a good flick. Tony immediately sat in the recliner, leaving only the couch for Tim and Jethro. They sat awkwardly, but didn't complain. Until the movie started and Tony jumped up. “Ooh, I forgot popcorn! Be right back!” He grinned and ran to the kitchen. Jethro groaned when he heard a whirring sound that told him they weren't getting microwaved bags, but that he was taking his time making air-popped.

“He’d doing this on purpose, you know.” Tim said, raising an eyebrow and glancing in Jethro's direction, but not making eye contact. Jethro just nodded with a small smile. Tim continued, “I’m going to get one thing off my chest, then I’m done.” His voice dropped to the dominant sneer he’d heard before, “If you hurt him again, so help me God, I will hunt you down myself.”

Jethro met his eyes this time and nodded. “He’s your family. I'd expect nothing less.” Tim blinked at this response. He’d expected something...else. Push back? A challenge? Denial? Not acceptance. Then Jethro continued, “I'm done running. If he’s keeping his word, then so am I. But let me tell _you_ something: unless we’re at work, and DiNozzo isn't there, _you're_ not my boss.” Tim felt a hesitation in his breath that made him want to look at his hands, or his drink, or the TV, but he didn't. This was the challenge he’d been waiting for, although thankfully it was more about how he’d talked to him before and not about Tony. He blinked a few times and nodded, until they both looked at the door and Tony came in with the biggest bowl of popcorn they'd ever seen and set it on the coffee table.

“Holy crap, Tony, where the hell did you get that bowl?” Tim asked, and Tony laughed.

“Restaurant supply store. I also use it to mix macaroni and potato salads for team BBQs and other things. But hey, at least I'm not charging you $25 for a small paper bag of it!” Tony produced three brown paper lunch sacks and the three of them filled the bags and settled in to watch the movie. About ⅔ of the way through, Tony paused the film and jumped up. “Gotta hit the head, be right back.”

Tim rolled his eyes, “really? Come on, it’s been forever since I've seen this one!”

Tony laughed, “so you can wait 2 minutes longer,” and left the room.

Tim was in a better mood after a beer and ⅔ of a good movie, and he turned back to Jethro. “Look, if Tony says you're not a bad guy, I'll trust him. But I'm not either. He said he told you about our...and _my_ ... history.” Jethro nodded, unsure of where this was going. “I never told him why I quit, though. Just that it was too much. You might get it better than he would.” He took a deep breath, listening for the sound of water running, but heard none. “A friend of my father's heard how good I was, and that the slaves I trained were better than most--because I _wanted_ them to _want_ to please.” Jethro tensed his jaw, but Tim continued, “most people, in general, have some submissive tendencies. I'm good at getting them to embrace that, by choice, instead of force and abuse. But the woman he sent me was _not_ one of those people. She was beautiful, and he called her 'fiesty,’ but she was so much more. I tried to refuse, I tried to change his mind. She was never going to be what he wanted, not by my hand, but my father convinced me to try.” He closed his eyes and, for the first time, admitted to another person what had happened. “I let her kill herself. If I sent her back, she’d be sent to someone else who would have beat her until she broke. Or killed her in the process. So I left her alone, unbound, with the knowledge that I had knives in my kitchen drawers and sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet. I went to dinner. When I came home, she was in my bed, and the pill bottle was empty.”

Jethro was stunned. This young man in front of him was still a _boy_ in his eyes, but he’d done a hell of a lot in his young life. “You gave her an out.” He said, matter-of-factly. Tim nodded. “OK.”

“Ok?” Tim wasn't sure what he meant by that.

“OK, I get it. You thought you were helping people, not just training to be a trainer. I can respect that.” Jethro nodded curtly. He knew it would take time for him to really trust that he was telling the truth, but his gut was telling him to try.

Tim figured Tony was taking his sweet time to let them talk more, so he pushed on. “And you could've killed Tony the other day but you didn't. Even after everything, you just incapacitated him so you could run. I can respect that.” He paused as Jethro nodded. “We good?”

Jethro held out his hand, “if I'm your teammate.”

Tim laughed, “oh, no, you're a probie. You've been warned,” and shook Jethro's hand. They heard the rush of water and the sink running, telling them Tony was on his way.

After the movie, and Tim and Tony had swept up the remnants of their popcorn throwing battle, Jethro was headed down to the basement to work on the entertainment center. Tony caught his arm, “thanks,” he said.

“For what?” Jethro asked.

“Giving him a chance. I've been thinking about it, and I'm not sure if I want to tell the rest of the team about your status yet. Everyone knows I wanted them to keep it quiet until we were ready, so only Tim, Ducky, Vance and Cynthia know. I want the rest to get to know you first, and when you're ready, you can tell them.”

“And the rest of the team would be this 'Todd’ person?” Jethro asked, and Tony nodded. “So what's with her, that you don't want to tell her?”

“She’s a great investigator, and a good profiler if she can get past her preconceived notions. I was going to talk with her, but honestly, I think it'll just be better if she gets to know you without prejudice.”

“She’s got issues with slaves?” Jethro asked, with a huff.

“Captured slaves. She can't get past the whole criminal thing. Born slaves she pities, but ones sentenced to slavery she can't see past the record. She’d listen to me and keep you safe in the field, but it would take a _long_ time for her to really see you for you, and I'm just too impatient for that.”

Jethro nodded. “Am I going to meet everyone together before Monday?”

“I was thinking about that too, how would you feel about a group lunch on Sunday? Maybe BBQ if it's warm enough?” Tony asked, and Jethro nodded. “You as good on the grill as you are over my fireplace?”

“Used to be. I'll handle burgers and dogs.” Jethro said, and Tony grinned.

“I got pasta salad and cheesecake. I'll have the others bring something. We haven't done this in a long time.” He clapped and grabbed his phone, “I'll call...uh-oh...Abby…”

“Who’s Abby?” Jethro asked, and Tony started laughing.

“She’s a force of nature. She’ll be pissed if I don't tell her everything. But if we’re not telling anyone else…” he sighed. “Ok, probie. You're here until you find your own place. Franks recommended you. I'll make the calls.” He turned and headed back to the kitchen to finish the dishes he’d agreed to do, and Jethro went to the basement. He didn't like lying about his status, but he understood the reasoning. Law enforcement officials didn't usually take too kindly to working with convicted felons. He’d make sure everyone knew when the time was right.


	32. Thursday+1 0100

Jethro sat at his desk, running his fingers along the edges of the photo album. It was a binding he’d seen since he was a little boy, gradually growing in thickness as his mother, and then his father [albeit less enthusiastically] had added pages. It was thicker than he remembered, though.

The first photo was faded and weathered, a black and white photo of his mother holding a tiny bundled child he could only assume was him. Her smile, and his father’s proud posture made him smile. He skimmed through the first half of the book after that--he knew those photos, he was wondering about the ones he hadn't seen. Even though he could pretty much guess what their subject would be, he gasped as he saw another photo much like the first one, except much less faded. He stood behind Shannon, a proud father grinning from ear to ear, his hands on her shoulders as she smiled down at their brand new bundle of joy. God, he'd been so happy.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. He opened the door to a half naked and bleary-eyed DiNozzo, who thrust his phone at him. “Just drop it on my nightstand when you're done, k?”

Jethro took the phone and held it to his ear as he watched the other bedroom door close quietly. “Hello?”

_ “Hey Leroy. I thought I'd be leavin’ a message at this time of night, but your boy there must like to sleep on top of that damn phone.” _

“Hey dad.” He said as he retreated back into his room. “What's up, you ok?”

_ “Yeah, yeah, we're fine. I was just gonna set up a time to come visit. Tony says you're gonna be workin’ with him come Monday, and ya got some big team hoopla Sunday, would ya mind some company before then? Maybe Friday? Cal can handle the store for a day.” _

“Cal? You're letting someone else run the store?”

_ “Funny how priorities change when you think you've lost your entire family, son.” _

Jethro flinched at that. He’d never even thought about how this would affect his father when he went to Mexico. He assumed it would be a suicide mission and he’d be with his girls, and as far as his dad knew, that's what had happened. They hadn't spoken in years before then either, despite Shannon's urging, and Jethro  _ had _ felt completely alone. “Yeah,” he managed to choke out.

_ “Are you really ok? I know I'm about 16 years late askin’...” _

“Yeah, dad. I think it's gonna be ok. As ok as it can be, anyway.”

_ “Good. Now, I've got Betty next door insisting on sending a tray of church potatoes, and Selina from church said she’d be bringing by some baked zucchini boats or whatever the hell she called it, so I'm hoping you boys are hungry. I sure as hell ain't eatin’ a boat made from zucchini, much less a bunch of 'em.” _

His father's nonchalant and gruff attitude made Jethro chuckle. He’d called DiNozzo's phone at nearly 2am to discuss church potatoes and zucchini boats. “I think Friday's fine dad. You sure you're ok to make the drive?”

_ “I'm old, but I'm not dead, boy. I'll drag LJ with me, he’ll keep my ass awake.” _

“Ok. See ya.”

_ “See you soon Leroy.” _

Jethro hung up the phone as if he'd done it a thousand times before. Before he could start overthinking things, he stood and went to knock on DiNozzo's door to return the phone. He stopped, remembering he just said to put it on his nightstand, and quietly opened the door. He tried not to stare at what he saw, and quickly left the room, but he definitely couldn't deny he’d wanted to see more. The tall, muscular and tanned body spread across dark sheets, naked and only partly covered by a thin comforter, relaxed and gently snoring.

15 years ago, being around naked men was commonplace for him. They showered and dressed together, sparred in their boxers, it was easy and normal. But sex between unmarried slaves was frowned upon, and males and females were often segregated, so a lot of men chose to fuel their desires with each other. Nakedness in the dorms and slave quarters was seen as an invitation.

He’d never considered himself bisexual before, but after several years, he found himself in bed with a man he’d considered a friend. It was very different from being with a woman. Rougher, harder, almost like sparring but with an orgasm. After that, he threw caution to the wind and found himself a bedmate every few months, except for the year after Diane. One or two thought they’d be more than that, but Jethro never had feelings for anyone besides Shannon, he’d just learned how much he appreciated the male form. DiNozzo was damn near perfect in that respect, and Jethro felt like he was hard wired now to be turned on by the sight of a naked man.

He paced in his room. He was supposed to be getting back to some kind of a normal life. Not totally normal, but the closest he could come. For the first time in several years, he wanted a drink. The urge passed quickly, but he dragged himself back to the basement for some more work. He hadn't thought about what would happen if he wanted someone in that way. It wasn't like he could bring her down here and fuck her against the wall. This wasn't  _ his _ home. And he damn sure didn't expect to get Stockholm syndrome over his owner. The man was gorgeous, but screwing guys was just something he’d done because he didn't have the opportunity to screw women.  _ Right? _

*****

“Hey.  Hey! Jethro!” Tony had panicked a little when he saw the man unconscious on the floor, but quickly assessed the situation and realized it was intentional.

“What the hell?” Jethro growled, pushing Tony's hand off his shoulder.

“You've got a $1200 memory foam mattress upstairs and you curl up on a movers blanket in the basement and sleep until 10? What happened in that phone call?” Tony extended a hand to help Jethro up. He didn't want to accept it, but reality set in as his knee locked and he grabbed Tony's hand and hauled himself to his feet. A mug of coffee was thrust into his hand, and he mumbled his thanks. When it was drained halfway, he looked up and saw DiNozzo still in front of him, except he’d backed up and taken a seat on the landing of the stairs. “So?”

Jethro sighed. “Jack wants to come down. Friday ok with you? He's bringing zucchini boats, whatever the hell that is.”

Tony laughed, “yeah, that's fine. If he wants to stay the night, he's welcome. It's a long drive.” Jethro nodded and turned back to where he'd left off last night. “That's looking awesome. You could probably sell those, you know. Cash on the side. I know a probie’s salary isn't much.”

“Don't need much.” Jethro said, matter-of-factly.

“But it'd be yours without the hassle. Just think about it. I've lived with a crooked Ikea entertainment center for this long, why change now?” Tony took a sip of his hazelnut creamer with a little bit of coffee. “I'm going out to clean up the yard before it gets too cold. Could use some help.”

Jethro looked at him closely. Was he being  _ told  _ to do this?  _ Asked? _ Tony must have read his face, because he quickly added to his statement. “You live here too, man. Your yard just as much as mine.” Jethro nodded and put away his tools as Tony bounded up the stairs. Ah, the energy of youth. Well, relative youth. Jethro still wasn't 100% sure how old DiNozzo was.

As he came outside in a hoodie and jeans, he had to laugh. DiNozzo had earbuds in, blocking out the world, and was dancing around the yard with the weed trimmer. Jethro shook his head and turned to the abundance of crimson and amber leaves that had gathered across the side lawn. This, like his woodworking, was something he could get lost in. No thinking, no worldly problems, and he even had entertainment.

The pair worked alongside each other for a few hours, until finally the yard looked winter ready. Tony pulled the buds from his ears and slung them over his shoulder, wiping sweat off his brow. He leaned an elbow on Jethro's shoulder and grinned, until Jethro looked between the offending elbow and his face with a raised eyebrow. Tony straightened up and chuckled nervously. “No casual bro touching, got it!” He patted Jethro on the back and turned toward the house. “I'm gonna shower. If you want, we can go get you a phone today. Should've done it the other day, but I forgot. Maybe now your dad can keep you up at 2am instead of me.”

Jethro immediately and unconsciously tensed at the words, but one look at the sarcastic grin on Tony's face made him shake his head. “That's fine.” He wasn't a fan of having to be driven around, but he didn't have a choice.

*****

“I need one that makes phone calls. That's it. Why the hell do I need a computer in my hand?” The salesperson seemed flustered with Jethro's request. She was used to people wanting the newest and shiniest toys, not someone just looking to make phone calls on a cell phone.

“Well, uh...this one is a basic phone. It slides open and has a keypad for texting--”

Jethro’s exasperated sigh cut her off. “Calls. That's it. Just a damn phone.”

Tony came around the corner to save the girl from Jethro's wrath. “Hey, what about this? It's rugged so it’s shockproof and waterproof, and it's just a plain flip phone?”

Jethro nodded, “works for me. Let's go.” He strode to the door and stood by the exit, waiting for DiNozzo to finish the paperwork. It was too embarrassing to stand there and listen to him explain why he couldn't get his own goddamn phone.

The young woman looked a little bewildered, but Tony started her toward the desks where he’d have to add the line to his plan. “He's had a rough couple of days.” He explained, then slid into his character of overgrown frat boy that he played so well. “So, maybe you could, uh, test out the line? If you gave him a call, from your cell, I promise I wouldn't let  _ him _ have the number,” he winked at her and she giggled. They flirted the whole time, and Tony strutted out of the store like a damn peacock.

“A little  _ young _ for you, don't ya think?” Jethro asked as they sat in the car and he took the phone from its box,

“Eh, I flirt. Always have, always will. She’s probably mid 20s, so really only like 10 or maybe 15 years. No big deal” He started the car and pretended not to notice Jethro's eyes raking over his body.

_ Late 30s… Not bad for late 30s _ Jethro thought, as he thought about what he'd seen the night before. Damn, he really needed to get laid. “So, I should probably know, how does it work if you bring home one of those little things you're always flirting with? Sock on the door? Or don't ya care if someone hears you?” He willed away the flushing that threatened to cross his cheeks and just raised his eyebrows.

“Eh, I usually don't bring 'em home, and I never spend the night. If you want…” his voice faded out. He hadn't thought of this. Legally, Jethro wasn't supposed to be 'out’ unsupervised. He could stay home if  _ Tony _ wanted to go out, but if he wanted to head to a bar after work or even the diner for breakfast, he'd need an escort. “Never mind.” 

“If I want what?” Jethro asked

“It's nothing, I was gonna say you could just text me and I could stay with Abby or something, but…” he looked really uncomfortable.

“But it's hard to pick someone up if I've got a babysitter?” Jethro said without hesitation.

“Yeah. Shit, I didn't even think about that.” Tony slammed his hand on the steering wheel as he drove.

“That's a privilege. Look, I'm too old to be out flirting at bars anyway. But if a miracle happens, I'll be sure to tell you somehow.” Jethro patted Tony's knee twice and dropped his hand back into his own lap. He pretended to focus on the phone and dialed his father to give him the number and make sure everything was still set for the next day.


	33. Friday+1 1100

“Don’t look at me! Maybe you didn’t like Stillwater, but these little old ladies certainly liked you!” Jackson grumbled as he climbed out of the truck.  
  
“Dad, nobody can eat that much food. You said church potatoes and squash boats, not the whole Ponderosa Buffet!” Jethro sighed as he stared into the cooler strapped into the bed of the truck.  
  
“Leroy, let me teach you a little somethin’ I learned a long time ago. If a woman wants to cook for you, _let her._ In this case, a whole gaggle of women who are probably old enough to be your grandmother.” Jackson grabbed his cane from LJ’s hands and headed toward the house. “Now where’s that handsome fellow who’s keeping you honest?”  
  
“He’s inside still showering. You weren’t supposed to be here for another hour. Technically I shouldn’t even be out here without him.”  
  
Jethro's reminder that this was not just a housemate arrangement made Jackson’s shoulders fall and he nodded. “Then we best get inside,” he said quietly as Jethro heaved the cooler off the truck and into the house.  
  
As LJ helped Jethro make room in the refrigerator, Jackson watched his son. He’d certainly gotten a lot grayer and developed plenty of lines around his face, not that he could talk, but it seemed like too much. His boy wasn’t even 50 and had passed “salt and pepper” hair long ago. “Leroy, what is that?” He asked, as he saw a mark on the back of his neck. He reached out to touch it, but Jethro pulled away.  
  
“No. Dad, it’s nothing.” Jethro realized his shirt had slid down, revealing one of the more poorly-healed scars on his back. He pulled the collar up and continued working until all the food was safely put away.  
  
“Hey there Mr. Gibbs!” Tony called, his megawatt smile brightening the room. The rest of the day was pleasant, with Tony being the perfect combination of observant and distracting, whenever conversation strayed into uncomfortable territory.  
  
As the evening loomed, Tony headed for the kitchen to make dinner, and Jackson looked at his watch “Oh dear, we really should be going. I’ll never make it back home at a decent hour.”  
  
Jethro shook his head. “Take my bed. LJ, there’s another one in Tony’s office. Stay tonight, it’s safer.”  
  
Jackson thought about it and glanced at LJ. “No skin off my teeth,” he said, and Jackson nodded.  
  
“Thanks, son. I appreciate it. What about you?” His eyes shot quickly to Tony, who pretended to be oblivious to the conversation as he prepped supper in the kitchen.  
  
“I can grab the couch for a night, no big deal.” He followed his father’s gaze to the kitchen and laughed. “What?”  
  
Jackson’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Leroy, I never fancied this slave business, so I didn’t know much. I went to the library to look some things up, and some people…well…he’s not…taking advantage, is he?”  
  
Jethro huffed. He’d spare his father any and all details of his previous owners, but he’d be honest about Tony. “No, dad, he’s not.”  
  
Jethro felt his father’s weathered hand on his own. “Son, I know I messed up.” Jethro was impressed that LJ had left without him noticing and was now chopping spinach in the kitchen. “When your mom died…I didn’t do too well. I wasn’t a good father back then, and I thought I’d never get a chance to tell you. Almost ate my gun after your funeral, but LJ stopped me.”  
  
Jethro tried to stop him, “Dad, it’s the past, it’s fine.”  
  
“No, it’s not. Ya didn’t talk to me for years before you disappeared, none of that’s gone away. But I’ll be damned if I sit on my haunches and wait for you to come to me this time. I don’t have much time left, and I love you damnit.” Jackson cursed his old age—he couldn’t steel his emotions like he used to—and he felt the tears building. “You’re a stubborn bastard, ya get that from me, but I need you to know I’m not gonna let you down again if I can help it. I wanna make it right.”  
  
Jethro blinked slowly and smiled. “Me too.”

*****

“Jackson, I'll sleep on the couch, you take my bed.” Tony offered. The old man was adamant he didn't want Jethro sleeping on the couch.

“It’s fine, son, these old bones can crash anywhere. Leroy's already offered me his bed, but I figured LJ could use it more 'n me. I can take the couch.” Jackson rebutted. “Besides, stairs are a pain in the hip.” he raised his cane and waved it at them.

Jethro nodded and headed for the stairs, holding out his elbow for LJ. “I'm no cripple,” he lightly smacked Jethro’s back, “not like Methuselah over there.” He gestured toward Jackson.

“I'm not deaf, you know!”

“Y’are if you take your hearing aids out!”

Tony tried to contain his laughter but he couldn't. “Oh god, this is like watching ”Grumpy old Men” live!” He said, as the two men glared at him.

“Just you wait, it’ll all catch up to you too, boy.” Muttered Jackson, with a smile on his face. Jethro had a hearty chuckle too as he followed behind LJ.

Tony sprinted up the stairs to get bedding for Jackson and stopped Jethro outside his room. “Hey, you take my bed. I'll take the twin.” He said, gesturing to the office. "I told you to offer, no reason for you to be... uncomfortable.” He didn't want to make Jethro sleep there ever again.

Jethro thought about it, then shook his head. “It’s a king bed. If you'll wear some damn pants, it's big enough to share. Your call.” He really wasn't looking forward to that twin bed, but he didn't want to put DiNozzo out.

“I think I can handle pants.” Tony nodded, and reached around Jethro for a pillow and blankets for his father.

Jethro got LJ an extra toothbrush and cleaned up after he did, pulling on a white undershirt and soft pants. As he passed his door, LJ stood with the photo album in his hand. “There's more where these came from. When are you able to come up to look through this stuff?”

Jethro shrugged. “Let's get settled first. Those are enough for now. Thanks. For everything.”

LJ nodded, “and the car?”

“Not giving DiNozzo keys to that. If I can't get her, give the keys back to Dad, would ya? Maybe he can find someone else to fix her up, if she's not too rusted out by now.”

LJ scoffed, “boy, he’s been fixing it up himself. Runs like brand new. I hope you like yellow.”

Jethro’s jaw dropped. “He what?”

“You wanted to fix that up so bad, it was all he had left. Spent over 20 years doing it. At first he hoped he'd use it as a way to get back in touch, but then…” LJ shrugged. “It was therapy for him, when you were gone, until the arthritis got too bad. Been finished for years. When you told me to park it in that storage unit, I should've told you. Maybe you'd have been more careful and come home.”

Jethro was stunned. He'd caught hell for spending so much on the childish 'pipe dream’ of fixing up the Challenger, his father threatened to sell it back, or take the keys, or any number of other rantings. He saw the guilt in LJ's eyes and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “You couldn't have known. And I probably wouldn't have believed you, so don't put this on yourself. I'll figure something out.”

He turned toward DiNozzo's room. He'd much rather have the couch, but his father was still the senior Gibbs in the house tonight, and he’d insisted. This WAS favorable, however, to the twin bed in the office that still had damage to the rails of the footboard from his time in the basement. As he entered, he noted which night stand looked more used, and crawled under the covers off the other side. With luck, he'd be asleep before DiNozzo finished whatever he was doing in the bathroom.

Tony stood in the shower, letting the water run over his body. He really should take the twin. Really. This was _not_ a good idea. He debated on cranking up the cold water, but decided against it. He hadn't been with anyone in a while, and a cold shower was only a short term fix. The minute he warmed back up, he'd be back to where he was now… Hard as a damn rock. Better to take care of it, maybe prolong any inappropriate thoughts until at least morning when he could get up and work out.

He ran his hand along his shaft conjuring up images of beautiful women, beautiful _submissive_ women, young soft bodies, as different from the man in his bed as he could get. His orgasm was weak, but should keep things tame for the rest of the night, and he cleaned up. He shut off the light and strode into the bedroom, shirtless with the requested knit pants, and swallowed hard when he saw Jethro already curled on his side close to the edge of the bed. He crawled under the covers and flipped the switch for his lamp, willing his body to stay where he was, instead of sprawling as he so often did.


	34. Saturday+2 0730

Tony smiled in his sleep. He curled tighter, pulling his pillow closer and hummed lightly at the hand petting his hair. And then he froze. His eyes flew open and he saw, not his navy pillowcase, but a white fabric under his arm. And there was _definitely_ a hand in his hair.

“Morning sunshine.” came a gravelly whisper.

 _Please let me be dreaming. Please let me be dreaming._ He screwed his eyes shut and flung them open again. Same white shirt. Short prickly chest hair underneath. _Shit!_ He scrabbled back to his side of the bed and jumped for the closet to grab something more substantial to wear that might subdue his aching hard-on.

Jethro chuckled smugly. He'd woken in the middle of the night to the younger man sprawled across the bed, whimpering and thrashing, and had only meant to calm him so he could get back to sleep. That attention turned quickly into DiNozzo snuggled against him, occasionally rubbing his face against his chest like a lonely cat. Jethro kept an arm around his shoulders, rhythmically reaching up to run his fingers through his thick brown hair.

Part of him was telling him to leave, go work on his project in the basement, wake him up and shove him back, just do _something._ If he thought about it too much, he felt panic rise in his gut at having his _owner_ touching him like this. But a larger part of him craved this closeness. He’d deny it, say he just woke up like that, but it felt good to have someone hold him, even if it was unconscious. Hell, for all he knew, DiNozzo was dream-snuggling McGee. He stretched, eyeing the patch of wetness from his bedmate's drool, and chuckled. _Time to get up_ , he thought, and padded out to his bathroom, absentmindedly scratching his chest. He couldn't wait until it was back to normal. 

Tony grabbed a pair of clean underwear and jeans and waited until he heard the bedroom door shut. He peeked out of his walk-in closet to make sure Jethro was gone and exhaled in relief. _This is bad. This is very bad._ Who knows how long he'd been curled up, hugging this man he barely knew, and who had every right to hate his guts. He was **_so_** going to hear about this later. Maybe, just maybe, Jethro would at least wait until after lunch when his father left, but this was downright hypocritical. Mr. High 'n’ Mighty, anti-slavery advocate, branding a slave, then proclaiming he would never sleep with a slave and waking up wrapped in his arms. _Shit._ He already was a hypocrite, before any of this, but he'd hoped the past 26 years had been enough to make him forget. Nope. He quickly hit the bathroom and tried to scrub himself clean. He probably shouldn't shower 2 or 3 times a day, but he couldn't help it sometimes. He just wanted to be clean.

Jethro headed downstairs, finding LJ and Jackson making pancakes together, coffee already made. “Mornin’” they said in unison, and Jethro grunted in response. He'd be social after his coffee. Well, as social as he got.

Tony came down about 20 minutes later, acting totally normal, except he was a little extra awkward if he got too close to Jethro. He was pretty sure LJ and Jackson didn't notice.

*****

“Tony?” Jackson pulled the young man aside as Jethro and LJ loaded the truck.  
  
“Yeah, Mr. Gibbs?” Tony responded, smiling and offering a coffee in a paper travel cup with two wrapped sandwiches.  
  
“Call me Jackson. Listen, Leroy’s a good man, and I’ve heard that some people won’t see that because of what’s happened to him. He won’t ask for help, so could you, just…” Jackson gestured toward Jethro, who was chatting with LJ and genuinely laughing at whatever the older man had to say.  
  
“I’ll watch out for him, sir.” Tony agreed, seriously.  
  
Jackson rolled his eyes, “Don’t call me sir. I work for a living.” He shook Tony’s hand and then turned toward the truck. Tony waved to LJ and went to stand on his porch as Jethro said his goodbyes to his father. Their work was fast paced and required long and unpredictable hours; another visit like this might be several months in the making.  
  
“So…” Jethro turned to Tony after the truck had passed. He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. Tony looked at him blankly, but he waited.  
  
Finally, Tony shrugged. “It’s getting chilly,” he said as he opened the front door and went inside. Jethro followed, but didn’t say a word. When Tony went into the kitchen to clean up from lunch, Jethro leaned against the door frame. Tony didn’t even turn around, until he finally straightened and practically growled in frustration. “Enough!” He spun around, his face hot with embarrassment, “I’m sorry, OK? I should’ve just taken the smaller bed, it was stupid. I never meant to…” he didn’t even know how to describe what he’d done. Snuggle? Cuddle? Purr? All cute ways that Tim used to describe his sleeping style, but JESUS, this wasn’t cute. It was entirely inappropriate.  
  
Jethro decided to REALLY push his luck in this situation. He stepped up and not-too-gently smacked Tony on the back of the head. “Don’t apologize. It’s a sign of weakness. And stop obsessing over it. You think I’d be pissed because you were too nice? No. So nothing to apologize for.” He passed Tony, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and went out to the back deck. Tony was stunned. _What just happened?_ He thought as he rubbed the back of his head. Was he just… _scolded_ ? _What the hell?_ He blinked a few times, then went back to his task. Jethro had agreed to make dinner and clean up if he did the same for lunch, which was hardly an equal exchange, but Tony wasn’t going to disagree.  
  
How had they gone from Tony locking a pissed off ex-marine half naked to a spanking bench, to said marine scolding him in his own kitchen? He worked slowly, still unsure of what was going on in this house. _He_ was supposed to be in charge here. It’s _his_ house. When he’d made sure everything was back in its place and the chicken was thawing for dinner, he grabbed a beer and decided to join Jethro on the deck.  
  
Jethro sat on the plastic Adirondack chair (which annoyed him to no end—he’d remedy that soon enough) and stared at the back yard. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done something incredibly stupid, but he hadn't thought before he acted. He’d just been really irritated with Tony sulking and awkwardly avoiding him all damn morning. He sighed. He'd have to accept whatever punishment was coming and move on. He cocked an eyebrow in the direction of the door as Tony came out, beer in hand, and sat next to him.  
  
“These things are terrible, you know.” Jethro said, tapping the arm of the chair, hoping to avoid confrontation.  
  
Tony chuckled, “Yeah, but they were cheap. I don’t come out here as much as I should, I only bought them in case company came over.”  
  
“Quality ones will last forever.”  
  
“Gee, I wish I knew someone who knew what the heck they were doing when it comes to building stuff,” Tony said sarcastically. The silence that followed didn’t seem to bother Jethro, but Tony started fidgeting.  
  
“Say it, DiNozzo.” Jethro told him. Damn, he was getting ballsy, he thought.  
  
Tony sighed. “Don’t pull that shit at work.”  
  
Jethro looked at him in surprise. “At work?”  
  
Tony leaned back in his chair and finished his beer in a few swigs. “Yeah. Might look bad for my image if my subordinate is ordering me around.” Jethro was a little confused…was Tony implying he could order him around at home? He just kept looking out into the yard when Tony continued, “And no, you’re not ordering me around at home either. But just call me out if I’m being stupid or something. Thanks for not freaking out when I…” he cleared his throat, “yeah, just…thanks.”  
  
“Welcome.” Jethro said, then shivered a bit as the breeze cut through his sweatshirt. “Got any plans for the afternoon?” he asked, and Tony shook his head. “Jack left some fishing gear in the garage—anywhere good we can go?” He wasn’t sure how DiNozzo would feel about fishing, but if this was a ‘vacation’ before they had to get to work, he was hoping to make the most of it.  
  
Tony thought about it, then nodded. “Well, um…let me ask Ducky.” He grabbed his phone and dialed the number.


	35. Saturday+2 1400

Tony sat on the shore, slouched in the canvas chair, reading a book. Jethro laughed as he took a worm from the cup and baited his hook. “Come on, it’s relaxing!” He shouted from the pier, holding the line with the hook out for Tony to see. The man peered at him over his expensive sunglasses and shuddered, then returned to his reading. He didn't _do_ worms, although he’d feigned soreness to his shoulder as the reason for letting the two older men fish without him.

“Jethro, I am pleasantly surprised to see your interactions have improved so much this week.” Ducky said, testing the hold on his fancy swirling minnow-scented rubber bait. “While Anthony and I share similar views on Slavery, he is quite inexperienced in appropriate slave ownership. I was disappointed when I learned of your treatment prior to the incident.”

From anyone else, the term “appropriate slave ownership” would have garnered an aggressive growl from Jethro, but he held that back for Ducky's benefit. He really did like the man. “Appropriate?”

“Well, perhaps not the best word choice, but yes, as in non-abusive. As you well know, his father is rather...well, he’s not a gentleman, let’s just leave it at that. Anthony has a very hard time with being able to have such a legal standing over someone while at the same time wishing to help them truly reach their full potential. I'm sure he had excellent intentions, but we all know what road is paved with those. You see, my mother did not share my opinion on slavery, but she is a kind soul who saw everyone in her house as family, regardless of their legal position, so I am better able to reconcile my cognitive dissonance. Although I do have a sneaky suspicion that perhaps there were situations which required a slightly firmer hand to convince you of the aforementioned intentions.”

Jethro was pretty sure he was just reprimanded, but Ducky was sneaky. As in, if he hadn't been an ass, maybe things wouldn't have escalated. At least he didn't pull an 'I understand’ speech. He’d gotten those before, but they usually ended with his fist in someone’s face,and him restrained and punished. Even now, after all that had been done for him, there were still parts of him that always watched for openings and wanted to just grab what he could and run for the hills, regardless of who was in the way. “Celia?” Jethro asked as he cast his line out into the lake.

“These things take time, but yes, we do have her on track to gain her freedom. I am certainly glad she truly likes Mother and I do hope she chooses to remain in our employ when that happens. I have also asked if she would like to accompany me to the gathering at your house tomorrow. I understand you and Anthony have decided to refrain from informing Agent Todd, Mr. Palmer, and Ms. Sciuto of your legal status?”

Jethro nodded, “it’s more DiNozzo. He figured I'd get to know them better, and then I could tell 'em when I wanted.”

“Well, I certainly don't envy your task of telling our lovely Abigail.” Ducky laughed under his breath as he reeled his line back in and cast again.

“Why?” Jethro asked as he watched his bobber carefully. He thought he saw it go under…

“Well, she is a tad bit overwhelming at times, and keeping something like this from her is likely to cause quite a temper tantrum. She is rather unique. However, conversely, if she were to know about your status, there is no doubt she would eventually tell the others, unintentionally of course.”

Jethro yanked his rod up quickly and felt the hook catch. He grinned and started pulling the fish toward the pier. “Hey, DiNozzo, I got dinner!” He grabbed the line above the flopping fish, holding it high in the air and turned to face the shore.

“You said you were cooking. That includes prep.” Was the only response he got. He couldn't tell if there was some eye rolling included, but he guessed there was.

“OK.” He removed the hook and put the fish into the cooler. It was a good size bass, but probably wouldn't feed both of them, so he cast again.

*****

“I thought you said you didn't know how to cook!” Tony exclaimed as he savored the perfectly cooked fish. They'd tossed the marinating chicken back in the fridge for tomorrow.

“Well, most things I know are done over an open fire, not a stove or oven.” He gestured toward the grate now resting by the fireplace. “If we wanted to cook something at Carl’s, we had to do it outside. He gave us just enough to survive, so we taught each other how to supplement.” Jethro inhaled sharply, having mentioned Carl’s name before he realized it.

“He was, uh...you were there the longest?”

“Yeah, almost 8 years.” He closed his eyes and changed the subject. “So, this thing tomorrow. What should I expect?”

“Well,” Tony tried to figure out where to begin. “Abby will probably be here early. She has a thing for older guys, so watch yourself. She’s...well, imagine a punk rock, Goth, squealy, genius, pigtailed, highly caffeinated Amazon. That's Abby. You know McGee. He may or may not bring his new girlfriend. If he does,” Tony pointed his fork at Jethro, “you leave her alone. She’s with him of her own volition, no matter what he says or does. I haven't met her yet, so I'm not sure how they will be together.” He lowered his fork, “Celia has agreed to come, so I'm guessing you two will want to catch up. Cate is coming too. She has a soft spot for born slaves, like Celia, but,”

“Yeah, you said, she can't see the person behind the crime.” Jethro finished for him. He would be just a criminal to her, no matter his justification.

“Yeah. Her biggest weakness as a profiler. She’s getting better, but I can't risk the team in the hopes that she’ll learn quickly. Anyway, we have a brand new Autopsy gremlin named Palmer. I'm pretty sure he’s scared of his own shadow, but he’s a good kid. Vance couldn't come, oh _darn_ , so I think that's everyone. Weather looks decent, so grilling should still be good to go.” Tony finally finished his monologue and tucked into the rest of his dinner.

As Jethro stood at the sink cleaning up, he heard the piano bench slide across the floor. Tony began playing, first an improvised melody, then a harmony to match, as usual. Soon, he stopped and pulled out his cell phone, resting it on the music stand and tapping the center. Apparently he was recording this. The melody started again, slower this time, slightly more complex, and Jethro listened. He’d never heard it before, and Tony would occasionally stop and repeat sections with slight changes. _I’ll be damned_ , he thought _he’s writing this right now. Off the top of his head._

He was done in the kitchen, so he didn't really have a reason to stay. He was a little louder than normal, to avoid startling DiNozzo as he crossed behind him, and headed for the basement. As he fitted some of the pieces together, he tried to ignore the piano above him. Maybe he _would_ sell the entertainment center…it had come together decently, but there were imperfections that would drive him crazy. He was out of practice. If he sold it, nobody else would ever notice. If he intended to keep it, he’d have to dismantle the damn thing and replace a few pieces.   
  
Maybe this piece meant more than just a distraction, maybe it was a goddamn metaphor. He kept trying to make it work, but he was too screwed up to do it right. He could give up and let someone else live with the  mistakes, or he could just dismantle everything in front of him, again, and keep trying. He sighed and made his choice, grateful he chose to use dovetail joints, and hadn’t finished securing them together. 

  
*****

  
“You’re still going to grill?” Tony stared at Jethro. The weatherman had been wrong…today was cold. And wet.

Jethro just shrugged and kept mixing the ground beef with some spices he’d found in DiNozzo’s cabinet. “Can’t cook this much in your fireplace.”   
  
“OK, but if you get a cold, Ducky will have my head.” Tony shook his head and returned to the pasta salad when they heard a rattle followed immediately by a loud *thump*.   
  
“Ooooowwwwww” came a muffled voice from the opposite side of the door. “Tonyyyy! Open up! You never lock this thing!”   
  
Jethro looked at Tony in confusion, and he shrugged. “I wanted a little notice before Hurricane Abby charged in here. You’re welcome.” Tony put his hand on the knob, took a deep breath, plastered a grin on his face and flung the door wide, “Abby!”   
  
The woman pushed past him, carrying multiple bags of food to the kitchen. “outta my way, mister, I got stuff to do…ooooh, hel-loooo soldier!” She made a show of looking Jethro up and down, noting the dog tags outside his shirt, which he quickly tucked away, then turned to Tony, “please say he’s our new agent, not some silver fox you picked up last night…pleeeeease!”   
  
Jethro just blinked and looked at Tony, who shrugged. He cleared his throat, “Soon-to-be Agent Gibbs, yes.”   
  
Abby squealed and pulled him into a hug. “oooh, you’re firm!” She said as she pushed him back and squeezed his shoulders, then biceps and then put her hands on his chest. She obviously had a different definition of the phrase “personal space” than most people, and Jethro started to get overwhelmed. He felt like he had at some of the auctions—women touching him without compunction, men too, assessing his physicality as his only measure of worth.   
  
Tony saw Abby’s hands all over Jethro and noticed as his jaw set, his forearms tightened, and he quickly intervened, spinning Abby around into a hug, “Hey, you forgot mine!” He glanced at Jethro, seeing relief in his eyes. “And am I not firm?”   
  
“Oooh, baby, you know how to talk to a girl!” Abby fanned herself with her hand, other hand on her extended hip, oblivious to the tension she had just caused. And then she immediately started rustling through the bags on the table. “OK, so…I brought some Jambalaya. Because, well…yeah. And deviled eggs. And pie. And fruit salad. And—“   
  
“Abs, how much did you bring? Oh god, we still have tons of food from Jethro’s dad Friday, and there’s not going to be that many people here…” His head fell backwards as he sighed. “Hope everyone’s really hungry.” Jethro chuckled and went back to forming the burgers.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm attributing some things of Gibbs to Tony [like the unlocked door] just because.


	36. Sunday+2 1115

For the next hour and a half, Tony ran interference between Abby and Jethro, as the three finished preparing for the rest of the crew. When Abby proclaimed she forgot something and had to run home, Jethro collapsed onto one of the dining room chairs.  
  
“Told ya she would get here early. Welcome to the team.” Tony chuckled, but he turned serious when he saw the look in Jethro’s eyes. “What’s up? She’s harmless, just exuberant and somewhat oblivious…part of the reason she’s in the lab and NOT in the field.”   
  
“She’s not always that…touchy, is she?” he asked, shaking off the feeling of strangers’ hands touching and squeezing him, talking about him as if he wasn’t there, or he was just livestock who didn’t understand a word they said.   
  
Tony nodded, “usually. But if you’re firm with her, she’ll stop.”   
  
Jethro hadn’t even thought to ask her to back off. In hindsight, he knew it wouldn’t cause an issue with DiNozzo, but in that moment, he’d just frozen. Freezing in times of stress would not be good for a federal agent, he was pretty damn sure.   
  
“Hey,” Tony snapped his fingers in front of his face to bring his attention back to the present. “She’ll pout, but she’ll get over it. A hug now and then might be unavoidable, though.” Jethro nodded. Hugs he could handle. They both jumped a little at the knocking on the door.   
  
“Jethro, you’re looking well,” Ducky proclaimed as he came into the house carrying a casserole in an insulated bag. Celia was behind, holding a big Tupperware bowl, no cuffs in sight. She smiled at Jethro, but didn’t say anything else as a thin young man followed behind and scurried into the room. “Jethro, I don’t believe you’ve met my assistant Mr. Palmer,” Ducky gestured to the flustered man behind him fixing his glasses.   
  
“Oh, uh…hey, Agent Gibbs, right? Doctor Mallard told me you’d be coming to work with the team, that’s, um…cool…” He smiled nervously and shifted his weight until Ducky called him from the kitchen and Celia passed him the Tupperware.   
  
The minute Palmer was out of sight, Celia gave Jethro a hug and grinned. “You look so much healthier than before!” she exclaimed, quietly.   
  
“Are things really OK?” Jethro asked, holding her at arms length and watching her reaction. She nodded.   
  
“Dr. Mallard applied for Scottish citizenship for me, and it’s been accepted! Once that’s done, then he can request the paperwork for “indentured servitude” instead of slavery, which apparently is more common over there, and once _that_ paperwork is accepted, I’ll have a date for my freedom. Dr. Mallard already said he’ll throw a party,” she sighed with a smile. “He’s such a good person, and it’s nice to just talk to someone, you know? He doesn’t want anything from me, just to help with his Mother, and he even makes me tea at night. It’s sweet.”   
  
Another knock on the door interrupted their reunion, and Jethro squared his shoulders at the tall woman in front of him. “I take it you’re Agent Todd?”   
  
She nodded and extended her hand, “That I am, and you’re our new Agent…Gibbs, is it?”   
  
“Yup. Come on in, DiNozzo’s in the kitchen.”   
  
Kate stepped across the threshold and glanced at the young woman who kept her head down and stayed behind Agent Gibbs. She’d ask about that later. “McGee just pulled up too, so don’t shut it just yet,” she tossed over her shoulder, and she swore she saw Gibbs tense up at the name. Later.   
  
The McGee who walked up the front walk with the cute redhead was definitely a more relaxed version of “Work McGee.” He hopped up the stairs and smiled as he shook Jethro’s hand. “Agent Gibbs? This is my girlfriend, Delilah.” The young woman blushed, keeping her eyes down, and shook his hand.   
  
Jethro felt uneasy at her posture, and the way she glanced at McGee for approval, but he heeded Tony’s advice and simply stepped further inside, gesturing toward the interior of the house. “Come on in, almost everyone is here.”   
  
Soon, Jethro was able to extricate himself from the group and head outside to the grill. It had stopped really raining, but the air was still cold and damp. After a few minutes of peace and quiet, he felt someone watching him. If he had to guess… “Agent Todd…” he said, before turning towards her.   
  
“Not bad.” She knew she hadn’t made a sound. “You know we’re having this cookout to meet you—why aren’t you inside with everyone?” She was trying to get a read on him, he could tell from a mile away.   
  
“Not used to lots of people, just needed some air.” He said as he turned, telling the truth.   
  
“So, I heard you impressed Mike Franks. He’s something of a legend around the office. How’d you do that?” Jethro blinked and swallowed his pride. Lying, right off the bat. He’d stick as close to the truth as he could, though.   
  
“Found the drug cartel bastard who killed my family when NIS couldn’t.” Truth. Omitting the results of his find, but so far, no lying. NIS knew the general area in Mexico, but couldn’t get the info to pinpoint his location, that had all been him.   
  
“Franks retired a long time ago, why didn’t he offer you a job then?” She knew just what to ask. She was suspicious of him, but willing to listen.   
  
“Wasn’t available. Met DiNozzo, I recognized the agency when he told me where he worked, gave him my history, and Franks vouched for me.” Hm. Omission, yes…but no outright lies. He was doing OK.   
  
Kate nodded and sat in one of the plastic chairs. She rolled her eyes as it squeaked and shifted under her. “God, can’t DiNozzo get rid of these chincy things?”   
  
Jethro huffed, “I told him that yesterday. Maybe I’ll make a set before summer.” _Shit_ . He didn’t just imply he’d still be living with DiNozzo six months from now. Maybe she wouldn’t…   
  
“Before summer? How long are you staying, Agent Gibbs?” She laughed. Yeah, she picked up on that.   
  
“I can make someone a gift, regardless of where I live, Agent Todd.” He said matter-of-factly. He turned back to the grill and started turning the hot dogs as he ignored how she was watching him.   
  
Kate thought about this. She could tell something was up earlier, but couldn’t quite suss it out, but after that little slip, and his reaction to the slip, she had an inkling. Her lead agent, who so often harangued people on the dangers of dating coworkers…he was awfully close to this new probie. Tony was open about his sexuality, always one to brag about a new conquest, so of course it was a possibility. And then he’d almost sounded like he actually lived here, instead of just crashing until his paycheck came in. She shook her head at the childishness of her boss and went inside, leaving Jethro alone with his thoughts again.   
  
Dinner went well, and everyone loved the burgers Jethro had cooked. It was nice to be in the company of people treating him as equals—whether or not they knew he wasn’t. Kate had stopped sending him suspicious looks and was now directing them at Tony, for some reason. McGee’s behavior was fairly mild-mannered, although Jethro couldn’t help but stare at the marks that sometimes showed themselves on Delilah’s wrists, or the way McGee’s hands sometimes sought them out and she would get flustered as his finger firmly slid into the sleeve of her sweater.   
  
As they were cleaning up, Jethro caught Tony alone in the kitchen. “Kate’s suspicious.” He said, without explanation.   
  
“She’s always suspicious. Why, what did she say?” Tony asked.   
  
Jethro leaned against the wall. This is why lying never works. “I implied that I might make you new chairs before summer. She took it as an assumption that I’d be here in six months, when you told people I was just staying until I could find a place.”   
  
Tony thought about it, then noticed Kate watching them from the dining room. She narrowed her eyes at him and turned away. “Oh crap.” He started laughing. “She doesn’t suspect the truth. She assumes we’re sleeping together.”   
  
Jethro glanced at him, “How do you know that?”   
  
Tony grinned and shook his hips a little, “who could resist this?” He laughed, “No, really though, at work I’m a little different than home. I’m pretty sure she takes me at face value and thinks I’ll bang anything that moves, so…not a huge leap to assume I’m in bed with the, how did Abby put it, ‘firm’ new agent living with me.”   
  
Jethro snorted, “and is she jealous?”   
  
Tony gave a crooked smile, “I don’t think so. She’s more like a bitchy older sister you love but you bicker with all the time.” His smile dropped immediately. “She thinks I’m a hypocrite. I called her out when she was dating a coworker and it affected a case.”   
  
“Well, let’s not give her more to talk about,” Jethro said as he pushed himself off the wall and into the living room, just as Abby turned the corner and ran into him.   
  
“Hey Gibbs!” She hugged him again and lingered just a bit longer than Jethro was comfortable with.   
  
He gently pried her hands off his back and held them together in front of her. “Abby, I’m not real touchy feely.”   
  
Her eyes grew wide and she yanked her hands away from him and tucked them behind her back. “oh my gosh, I didn’t think. Ducky tries to tell me I go a little overboard on…well…everything,” she chuckled nervously. “I really didn’t mean to start off on the wrong foot! Especially if, you know, you ever wanted…” she tilted her head down and started looking at him through her eyelashes.   
  
“No, thanks Abs. Pretty sure my daughter would be your age by now.” He patted her shoulder and spun her toward the living room, away from him. She pouted and stomped her feet, but walked away, then quickly forgot about the whole thing.   



	37. Sunday+2 2000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to steal some lines from shows. Mostly Kate/Tony verbal sparring, because I don't want to mess them up too badly lol. 
> 
> On a user suggestion, quotes will be noted at the end as {1.6} where the first number is the season, second is the episode.

As the evening wound down, McGee, Delilah, Abby and Palmer all left fairly early. Tony, Ducky, and Kate were chatting about some politics in the office between a Jennifer Shepherd and the Director Vance, but Jethro couldn’t be bothered. He sat on a chair next to Celia and the two drank tea (Jethro would have much rather had coffee, but he was being a good host) and chatted quietly.  
  
“So, when you go out?” He asked, indicating her hands, which were free when she arrived.   
  
Celia smiled, “Doctor Mallard has already said that if he gets a ticket, he will recommend where they can shove it. I guess most people around here don’t know that much about citizens from other countries, so they don’t push when he pulls out his Scottish ID. The collar though…” She ran her forefinger along the silver chain around her neck. Discreet, like his, it held a locket that, when opened, had the legally required information.   
  
Jethro smiled softly, “It looks good, actually.” He leaned forward to look at it closer, it wasn’t a new purchase. Probably an antique, or at least something that once belonged to his mother.   
  
“He said I could keep it when this is all done. Put pictures in there instead of…you know…” Her voice got quiet when she thought of photos.   
  
“What about your family? Can he find them? You’re Born, so they’re slaves too” Jethro asked, but she shook her head.   
  
“That’s why I was sold. I never knew my father, and my mother died in a house fire. They needed money to fix up the house, so they sold some of us. It’s just me.”   
  
Jethro took her hand as she tried to hold back the tears, and he leaned closer to her.   
  
“Tony?” Kate interrupted Tony’s animated discussion with Ducky. “What is he doing?” She motioned to Jethro, who was holding Celia’s hand and leaning toward her in a rather intimate way.

Tony shrugged uncomfortably, “looks like he’s sitting...and talking. I don't read lips, Kate.”

“Ducky, is it appropriate for him to be getting _that_ friendly with your slave? Come on, Tony, you're the one always going on about people taking advantage of slaves because they 'can’t say no’ but jeez, here he is practically breathing on her neck! And you're gonna let it happen?” Kate glared at him. What the hell was going on? Normally her boss would _freak_ if anyone he knew was flirting meaningfully with a slave (he and Cynthia were different, apparently).

“Caitlin, perhaps you are reading this interaction incorrectly,” Ducky whispered. “Celia has never had a father figure growing up, and I'm certain she just sees me as a kindly owner right now. Her posture and the tears on her face indicate sorrow, not attraction.” Yes, his eyes were just fine with his glasses.

Kate looked closer. _Damn,_ Ducky was right. This was confirmed when Gibbs reached into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief. “I still don't trust him.”

Tony snorted, “Kate, you don't trust anyone.”

She narrowed her eyes, “True. And maybe he prefers the taller, more _masculine_ type?”

Tony laughed, “Jesus, Kate, you think I'm banging the new guy? Come on, give me a few weeks, would ya?”

*****

Jethro poured some coffee into a thermal mug and the rest into a regular cup, then restarted the coffeemaker for Tony's weak brew. He’d been tolerating an in-between blend, but he’d need the real stuff for today. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror in the hall and nodded. He’d gone with Tony's suggestion from the store, black polo, black pants, and the grey jacket.

As he settled down with the egg sandwich he had made, and the newspaper that came at 5, Tony came through the door. Jethro’s eyebrows shot up at his appearance and he watched him over the top of his readers. The Tony he’d known for the past 2 weeks had been a jeans kind of guy. _Expensive_ jeans and designer shirts, if they went out, but still jeans. This Tony? The cut of his grey chalk stripe suit was perfect, the material obviously very high end, the simple white shirt had a slim fit that emphasized the way he took care of his body, the tie a thin burgundy silk, his hair perfectly styled, and most people certainly wouldn't notice the two guns he had on him. Jethro saw the ankle holster when he had sat down to put on his Italian leather shoes, and the shoulder holster was just something he knew how to look for.

“No sling?” He asked, tearing his eyes away from the perfectly framed ass just 3 feet away from him. He _wasn't_ thinking about Tony’s ass. And he certainly didn't feel his briefs tightening. No. Just because this man had impeccable style, sure and confident movements, a smile that could light up a room, and the ability to kick some serious ass? Didn't interest him at all. He’s just an owner who _happens_ to be a snappy dresser.

“Nope. I've been using it alright, and it really ruins the line of the suit.” He ran his hand down his side, “it’s a Zegna.” He looked at Jethro as if that meant something. When he got no response, he sighed and glanced at the full coffee carafe, then Jethro's full cup and mug.

“I needed real coffee,” he said, as he drank the rest of what was in his cup and stood to put it in the sink.

Tony poured his own coffee, added copious amounts of hazelnut creamer, and went to the safe in the living room, pulling out his guns and badge. “Alright, let's go. Don't want to give your boss a bad impression on your first day!” He grinned, pulled his overcoat on a little gingerly, and grabbed a different pair of designer sunglasses before turning and heading out the door. They were leaving an hour early so nobody would question why he was going through the slave entrance. Even with his clearance, _they_ knew who, and what, he was.

Jethro stood and cracked his neck. He could do this. He ignored the hard and fast thumping in his chest, grabbed the other coat on the rack, and joined Tony in the car. _Don't fuck this up, Gibbs_ , he tried to remind himself.

*****

“Didn't I already do this?” Jethro growled as he stared at the stack of papers in front of him.

“Sorry, HR needs paper copies of some things. Your first _week_ it seems like you sign your name so much your hand is gonna fall off,” Cynthia said. “Especially with special circumstances.”

Jethro sighed. This _was_ government, after all. Bury their people in paperwork. “Cynthia, are there any others here?” He asked. He’d been granted the use of a conference room so he could get the papers signed sooner, and Cynthia had volunteered to help.

“A few. But they're all in the work program. Most government agencies nowadays have work programs for Born slaves. Sign a contract to work there for 20 years, barring extenuating circumstances which would be reviewed individually, and you get freedom in 5. They're owned by the agency, but are in the care of the deputy director. Part of the job.”

“What about you?” He asked.

She smirked, “that’s for Born slaves. I've only been one since I was 24.” He raised an eyebrow and she continued, “I killed my husband.” No further explanation, she just stood up and went back to her seat.

“Oh.” He nodded. Obviously there was more to the story, or she wouldn't be here as a secretary to the director of a federal agency, but he’d leave it alone for now. “Ok, am I done?”

He passed the stack across the table and she glanced at each page. “I think so. Director Vance said your team is on cold cases for the week, so have fun.” She smiled warmly and patted his arm as she took the papers and held the door for him.

“Tony, I swear, this is NOT funny anymore!” Jethro heard McGee's voice carrying up the stairs.

Tony’s laughter followed, “oh, maybe not to you, Mcgeek. I think it’s freakin’ hil-AR-ious”

“Tony, you're a child,” Kate was there too, "How did you get into NCIS?" She asked.

"I smiled." And as Jethro turned the corner, Tony gave her the biggest, cheesiest grin he could. McGee was, in the meantime, just standing by his desk with his computer mouse in his hand.

Jethro strolled to his desk and sat down, mostly ignoring the scene he’d walked into, until Tony brought him in. “Come on, is this funny or not, Gibbs?”

Jethro observed the look on McGee's face, and when he held up his hand and tried to drop the mouse, he couldn't hide the amused look in his eyes. “Super glue?” He asked.

“Yes. I should've known. _God forbid_ I'm nice to him, he thanks me with crap like this!” McGee was fuming, and deep down, Gibbs was enjoying every second.

“Acetone. Works like a charm.” He turned away from McGee and Tony and started up his computer. “Cynthia said we’re on cold cases, so...what needs doing?”

*****

Jethro was scanning through the evidence and notes on a case from seven years ago, when he noticed an inconsistency. Nothing specific, but his gut told him something was wrong with one of the witnesses statements. It was too specific. Too rehearsed. He wasn't sure what to do with it, so he approached Tony's desk. “Hey, _Boss_ , I might have something.”

Tony spun his chair in a circle, “Thank GOD, I'm going crazy. Put it on the plasma.” Jethro looked at him blankly, and he jumped up and grabbed a remote, “McGee, help.”

McGee began typing furiously and accessed Jethro's computer, pulling up the files of the case he’d been researching. Suddenly, everyone was looking at him. Jethro licked his lips and swallowed, feeling boxed in. He took a step back, but Tony’s voice quickly cut through his nerves, “Gibbs. Just tell us what you found.” The tone was firm and clear, and he pointed to the witness statements. “I was reading,” McGee pulled that window to the front, “and if you compare these two,” McGee put the two statements side by side as if he were reading Gibbs's mind, “they're too similar. Different agents took the statements, so they didn't see how close they are.”

Tony stepped closer to the screen, remote in one hand, the other on his chin. “Hm. Damn, I took that statement. I was filling in as Balboa's SFA. I remember this guy. Thought he was off, but it didn't go anywhere.” He quickly slipped back to his desk and opened a drawer in a file cabinet. “Ok, here’s my personal notes.”

The team spent the afternoon digging into the suspect and tied him to another cold case from a team in Florida, finding more evidence now that he wasn't being as careful as he was when the cases were active. He was currently living in Florida, so Kate got on the phone and coordinated an arrest. By 8, he was in custody and the Florida team had gotten a confession for the crimes in their jurisdiction. They’d fly down if necessary, but for now, it was quitting time.

“Time for a little R&R, you've got two extra hours tomorrow am,” Tony said to his team as they packed up.

McGee stood and stretched, “got any plans tonight, Kate?” He asked.

“None of your business, McGee.” She fired back with a smile.

“Yeah, McGee, Kate’s got a super secret second life” he winked seductively at Kate, who rolled her eyes.

“Really?” Kate rolled her eyes, “Your mind, DiNozzo, runs the gamut from X to XXX.”

“Oh, Kate, you flatter me.” Tony grinned and wiggled his fingers in a wave, “see y'all tomorrow.”

“Want a ride, Gibbs?” McGee asked, knowing he had to decline, but it looked good.

“No thanks McGee.” He looked back to his computer and relaxed when the elevator doors shut behind their teammates. “You always let her talk to you like that?” He asked his boss.

“Like I said, big sister you love to hate. She thinks I'm...oh what was the term...an 'X-rated Peter Pan’. I guess it's part of my charm.” He shrugged. “it works for us. You about ready?” Jethro nodded and stretched out his knee before standing. “Good first day, Probie.”

Jethro definitely didn't react to that grin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate: "How did you get into NCIS?"  
> Tony: "I smiled." {1.2}
> 
> Kate: “Your mind, DiNozzo, runs the gamut from X to XXX.” {1.2}
> 
> Gibbs’s outfit:
> 
> http://images.tenplay.com.au/~/media/TV%20Shows/NCIS/Galleries/Cast%20Pics/NCISharmon606i570x428.jpg
> 
>  
> 
> Tony’s:
> 
> http://image.wikifoundry.com/image/1/cKFIWVR6ABlNsJ8ALijf0Q13697/GW240H300


	38. Friday+2 0600

The rest of the week went smoothly. Tony and Gibbs always arriving at least an hour before the rest of the team, Gibbs learning how their brainstorming process worked (“'campfires’? I'm still not singing kumbaya,” he told him the night after their first one), he learned more about the computers and how to get things onto the plasma (basically, just leave it on the screen and McGee will get it), and while he wasn't chatty, he was getting over the nervousness of being the center of attention if he found something.

Tony and Kate continued bickering, McGee tried, and often failed, to get Tony back for the super glue incident. Gibbs sat back and watched the trio go from what could be seen as insolent children, to a flurry of intellect, intuition, hard work, and damn good police work. It was like the ebb and flow of the tides.

Evenings were uneventful, one day home by dinnertime, one day they had takeout at 9pm, and Wednesday they'd crawled into their beds, exhausted, without dinner. Cold cases weren't always boring, and when they got home, they simply went their different ways with little conversation. Like roommates, which was an arrangement Tony repeatedly told himself worked perfectly fine.

Friday morning, Tony came downstairs as usual, but he’d gone more casual. Casual for him anyway. A light grey designer sweater and dark jeans that cupped his ass perfectly. There was a reason he’d purchased 4 pairs when he found them. As he was pouring his coffee, he heard Jethro shift behind him. He smiled as he reached high into the cupboard for his cereal, then bent over to get the milk from the bottom shelf of the fridge and Jethro shifted in his seat again. “You want some of this?” He asked over his shoulder, and Jethro coughed into his coffee.

“What?!?” He sputtered.

“Cereal, do you want some?” He repeated as he straightened. He kept his face neutral even though he was dying inside at the look on Jethro's face. He could tell Jethro needed to get laid, and he certainly wasn't above flaunting himself, just a little.

“No.” Jethro grumbled, and drank the rest of his coffee in one swig. “We should go.”

It was Tony’s turn to watch Jethro walk away. He wasn't the only one who needed to get laid. Shit, even McGee was getting some on the regular. Maybe he’d convince Jethro to head to a club this weekend. Nah, he didn't look like a club kind of guy...maybe just a bar.

Within 20 minutes of the rest of the team’s arrival, Vance strode into the bullpen. “No more cold cases. Got two calls, so you're up early. Dead petty officer in rock creek park.”

Tony, McGee, and Kate groaned as they grabbed their guns, badges, and each had a bag under their desk. Jethro watched them swoop out of the bullpen with practiced ease, until Tony stopped at his desk and handed him a black bag, identical to his own. “Gear up. Let's go, Probie.” He took the bag and hustled around his desk, the two of them barely making the elevator.

“When will they just close this damn park? The amount of bodies we find there, it should become a cemetery,” Kate mumbled, and McGee nodded. Jethro was confused, but didn't ask.

The drive wasn't long, and it was mostly silent. They were in 'grown up mode,’ as Jethro had dubbed it to himself. When the car stopped, they quickly climbed out and donned black jackets and hats emblazoned with “NCIS” in white block letters. “In your pack,” Tony whispered to Jethro, and he took a deep breath as he pulled the jacket out. “Take your time, you'll find us.”

Jethro closed his eyes and just kept breathing. Paperwork was one thing. There was a dead sailor here, and a killer on the loose, and he was part of the team that was going to stop him. Or her. Stop a killer _before_ they killed again. _Before_ they went after someone’s family. And all he had was a clip-on ID, because he'd have to pass his probation to get a badge, then he could _start_ getting certified on the range, under direct supervision of his owner, and even then there wasn't a guarantee that they’d allow him a gun _on_ duty, and definitely not _off_ -duty. Especially since he was here because he shot someone. Jethro slammed his fist against the dash and flung the car door open, roughly pulling on the hat and jacket.

 _Suck it up, Gibbs,_ he thought. No time for a pity party, there's work to do. He approached Tony, who passed him a clipboard, dropping the large camera to hang around his neck. “You draw?”

Jethro took the paper and pencil cautiously, “not really.”

“First time for everything. McGee will double check your work at first, but for now, this is your job.”

“Yeah, Tony’s big on the sketches, even though we have tons of pictures too.” Kate chimed in.

Tony huffed and pulled up a photo on his phone and held it out to Kate, “tell me her measurements.”

She closed her eyes and turned her head, “You're pathetic.”

“No, I'm serious. Can you tell if she's five foot four and a thirty-four C, or five foot seven and a thirty-six D? You can't. Not from a photo. That's why we do sketches and take measurements. Thank you.” Tony grinned and leaned over to Jethro conspiratorially, “five-seven, by the way,” and showed him a photo of a busty bikini-clad blonde waving at the camera.

“Girlfriend?” He asked, and Tony chuckled.

“She wished. Spring break, 1999. Frat brothers and I took a trip for our 10 year reunion. Good times,” he said, wistfully. Then he cleared his throat, “Ok, back to work. Sketch everything you see, measure distances, everything you can think of. Don't go somewhere until McGee clears it, to avoid contamination. That comes with practice. Don't touch ANYTHING. If you notice something, call one of us and we’ll go over it together.”

Jethro nodded and approached McGee, who pointed out where he could walk and where he couldn't. Kate was still searching the area for footprints or other evidence. He got to work, starting with the body in the center of the paper, noting where the shell casings had been found, tire tracks, and then he noticed something. He stood and turned, seeing Kate closest to him. “Todd! He called her over. “He took a knee here.”

She squinted, then looked at him, “what?”

He pointed to the indentation in the dirt, “measure it. Pretty much exactly the size of my knee. And the branches are snapped,” he indicated the scrub at the base of the tree, “and the bark recently lost a chunk. Watch,” He strode to an adjacent tree and mimicked the position, falling onto his good knee, snapping branches, and leaning his hand on the trunk. Several pieces of the bark crumbled off the old maple tree. “Check the bush, I smelled vomit. I didn't want to get too close.” He stood and smiled a little as Kate donned her latex gloves and reached into the scrub.

“Ugh, yeah. Still damp. Ew.” She stood up and called McGee over After confirming there weren't any weak-stomached local LEOs that morning, the two collected the vomit and the dirt surrounding it. “Abby's gonna want it all.”

Back at the office, McGee was going through the petty officer’s computer as Kate returned from Abby's lab. “Where’s Tony and Gibbs?” He asked.

“Tony’s got him checking in evidence. _He_ even seemed offended when Tony used the phrase 'baggy bunnies.’” Kate sighed, “at least _someone_ has a little respect for the female employees here.”

“Hey! I don't disrespect you!” McGee responded, offended.

“Ok, but you don't count.” Kate sat at her desk and looked over her notes, ignoring McGee's kicked puppy look. He’d perfected that just for work. “Ok, so...gut shot, with a trail of blood. The killer shoots him, then he gets away and runs, but he’s bleeding out. Boot print by the body, then a shot to the head. Then the killer turns and upchucks? Doesn't jive.” She was trying to work it all out when Jethro appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. McGee would never admit he’d jumped a little as he came around the corner.

“Two of em.” He said as he sat at his desk.

“What?” Both Kate and McGee asked.

“Two people. One cold blooded killer, one who didn't have the stomach for it. The boot print was too small for someone who made such a large indent in the dirt.”

The trio got to work, McGee delegating tasks and as Tony came in, he grinned. _This could work,_ he thought. They were working well together. Now, he just had to get Jethro and Abby on the same level of comfort. “Gibbs, get an update from Abby. Bring her this.” He handed him a gigantic cup labeled 'caf-pow’.

“Boss, we can--” McGee started, but Tony shot him a look.

Jethro was suspicious, but he took the cup and went to the elevator. He wasn't sure he wanted to be alone with this girl, but Tony was the boss. He also knew what could happen if he was caught unsupervised. But they’d talked about this.

Mcgee dragged Tony into the crook of the stairs, “He shouldn't be alone, you know that. We could've just _called_ Abby,” he hissed. “If security finds him unsupervised…”

“Then they'll call me. He knows what to do, and I'm going to keep pushing the issue. If he’s going to be an agent, I can't have him on a leash all the damn time. Vance will back me. I'm getting a pretty good handle on this, Tim, don't undermine me.” Tony spun on his heel and strode back to his desk, swaggering just a bit, for Tim’s benefit.

The elevator dinged and Jethro headed for Abby's lab. A hideous sound overwhelmed him as he opened the door, and he had to shout over the screaming coming from her speakers. “Abby! Abs!”

She turned and hit a button on the remote that dropped the room into relative silence. And then she was squealing and tore the cup from his hands. “Ok, so, Ducky found some epithelial cells on our dead guy’s neck, along with a lipstick called “Hustling Hooker Red.”

Jethro huffed. “Classy.”

“I know, right? Anyway, we already got a match on the DNA database. Here ya go.” She handed him a printout of the pertinent details on their current suspect. She stared at him, wringing her hands, then sighed. “Ok, I have puke to analyze.”

He laughed, “alright Abs, I'll get this to DiNozzo.” and left. He was glad she had obviously restrained herself before he left. The ride to the bullpen was free of security, and he tossed the paper on Tony’s desk. “Suspect one. Abby got a hit on the DNA.”

The team scrambled their resources, Tony sent McGee and Kate out with backup to pick up the woman, who’d been arrested and convicted on charges of gang violence, but got out two months ago for 'good behavior.’ McGee took her to interrogation and Tony approached Kate. “Go see Ducky.”

She held her hand over a gauze pad on her arm. “Tony, I'm fine. It's a scratch.”

He pushed lightly on her hand and she winced. “Yeah, 'it’s just a flesh wound,’" He said with an English accent as he rolled his eyes. "Go. Gibbs, go with her. Don't let her skip out on that.” He turned and walked toward the hall McGee had just entered.

“Ugh, whatever, let's get to work.” Kate tried to sit down, but Jethro grabbed her good elbow.

“Nope. Ducky.” His stomach was in knots. He was touching and ordering her around. A Free woman. But she didn't know he didn't have that right, so he kept his face stern and eyes neutral.

She sighed, “fine, let's go.” Jethro was relieved when they entered the elevator without further complaint.

“What happened?” He asked. Tony had been on the comm with her when they apprehended the woman. He felt incredibly guilty seeing Kate’s blood oozing through the bandage now, because he knew _why_ Tony hadn't been with them. McGee knew too. Gibbs wasn't field certified, and Vance wasn't there to take over his 'supervision’ at the office. This was _his_ fault.

“She’s faster than she looks. Shoved me against a wall before I could get my gun, and there was a freaking nail sticking out. I used to guard the goddamn president and now I'm sidetracked for a stupid nail.” She fumed, but then smiled back at him. His face wasn't judgemental or smug, he was concerned. “It’s fine. Maybe a few steri-strips.”

He nodded and leaned back against the wall, still watching her. She felt uneasy, and her ears felt warm as she felt his gaze. She swallowed hard and focused on the numbers changing above the doors. Thankfully, the elevator opened and she darted out without looking behind her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony: Tell me her measurements.  
> Kate: You're pathetic.  
> Tony: No, I'm serious. Can you tell if she's five foot four and a thirty-four C, or five foot seven and a thirty-six D? You can't. Not from a photo. That's why we do sketches and take measurements. Thank you. {1.1}
> 
> I'm taking a while to write the investigation stuff...might be a few days for the next chapter, sorry!


	39. Friday+2 1800

“Caitlin, oh dear, what _have_ you done?” Ducky ushered her to sit on one of his tables. “I take it you were reluctant?” He gestured toward Jethro, who nodded.

Kate made a *hmph* sound and shook her head. “Ducky, it's fine. The bleeding had almost stopped before Tony _poked_ me.”

Ducky just sighed and waved a finger at Palmer. “Mr. Palmer, bring me my bag, if you please.” He gave Kate a damp cloth to wipe the blood off her hand as he removed the bandage. She winced and gritted her teeth and Jethro tried not to watch as Ducky inspected the wound. “Caitlin, this needs to be cleaned. I do not have very effective pain relief for that. Most of my patients don't complain, but you might. Perhaps a trip to the hospital--”

“No, Duck, just…” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Just do what you have to. We’ve got one suspect upstairs, but we need to find a the second.”

Ducky stepped back into his office and Jethro approached Kate quietly. “You sure about this? That’s a nasty gash. Gonna hurt like a bitch.”

She glared at him, “thanks, _Probie_ , but I can handle it.”

“Not sayin’ ya can't. Just that you don't have to.” He said, softly. He’d gotten too good at dealing with people who’d been injured. It was pretty much an everyday occurrence at Carl’s. Dr. Ben had been better, until his son took over. He shuddered at the thought.

She hung her head, “ok. But no, I need to get back up there. Ducky won't stitch it at least, so it’s mostly…"

“The process of removing the debris from the wound to prevent infection.” Ducky finished her sentence. “You may wish to hold on to something, this _will_ hurt.”

Instinctively she grabbed Jethro's hand and closed her eyes. “Ok.” Jethro adjusted his hand so she wasn't squeezing the center of his hand, but rather the knuckles--something he learned the hard way when Shannon was giving birth--and nodded to Ducky. To her credit, Kate got through it with little more than some grunts and a hiss and a single tear down her cheek.

“Thanks.” She said to Jethro as she rolled her stained shirt sleeve down her arm, 6 steri-strips later.

“Welcome.” He said, as he punched the button for the bullpen.

Jethro was impressed with what he was seeing from observation. Tony was seated across from the glowering woman, chair tipped back on two legs, feet on the table, and he was guessing a confident grin plastered on his face, keeping eye contact with her. McGee was pacing in her blind spot behind her, files in hand, clicking his pen and asking questions. The suspect was smug, grinning and maintaining eye contact with DiNozzo.

“Did you know Darrel Frasier?” McGee asked again. “Had you ever seen him before?” He slapped the photo onto the table and pushed it in front of her.

She shrugged without looking down and kept eye contact with Tony. “Nope. Never seen him before.”

Tony thrummed his fingers on the table twice. A signal to McGee to stop the questions. He simply paced, flipping pages, clicking his pen, and Tony stretched. He placed his hands behind his head and sighed. Finally, he spoke. Quietly, seductively, he slid his feet to the floor and leaned toward the suspect. “So, what color _is_ that lipstick?”

The change in tactics rattled her just enough, and she brought a hand to her lips. Tony leaned closer. “Hooker...something?” She didn't respond, so he kept going. “It's definitely a lovely color. Unfortunately, when you're working toward second base, that color tends to smear. Along with DNA. So, let me repeat Agent McGee's question,” he slid the photo closer to her, “did. you. know. him?”

That little detail was the first chink in her armor, and by the end of the evening she was telling them everything. Petty Officer Frasier had gotten into an altercation with her little brother at a local bar while he was on shore leave last time. When Maria came home from prison, she went right back to the gang she’d been caught in, and they convinced her brother to find Frasier. He knew he was a sailor, and what ship he was on, so when he came back to port, they found him. She lured him into the park with the promise of an outdoor quickie. Michael was supposed to be the one to kill him, and he delivered the gut shot. Maria finished the job, she just never told the gang that. Her brother was now 'in the family.’

It took another 3 days to find her brother. She may have spilled what happened, and confessed to the murder, but 'the family’ would take care of him. He didn't kill the petty officer, she did, and no amount of sweet talking or 'bad cop’ would get her to say anything else. The team relied on the forensics, their computer skills, and Tony's contacts he'd managed to maintain for the past 8 years since he moved from Baltimore to DC.

This time, when they went in, Tony went with them. Vance brought Jethro into MTAC, which was going to be a big problem if anyone found out, and the pair stayed in contact with the team, Jethro watching readouts from thermal cameras and giving directions and data on the gang members inside the building. His frustration was evident, and when the comms were off, Vance clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Soon enough, Gibbs. Everyone has to pass this crap, regardless of their qualifications.”

Jethro shrugged him off. “I've got more experience clearing buildings then McGee and Todd put together, and I'm grounded. If anyone should be the cannon fodder, it's me. I'm expendable.”

Vance stepped into his personal space and slowly pulled the toothpick from his mouth. Quietly and clearly, he told Jethro, “You listen to me, Gibbs. _None_ of my agents are expendable. I wouldn't have approved and pushed this through for someone I thought would be cannon fodder. And it took a _lot_ of pushing. You'll get in the field when you get in the field, but don't think you're less valuable than the rest of your team.” He backed off and immediately headed up the stairs, Jethro following close behind, still a little stunned.

*****

“So much for a relaxing weekend,” Tony whined, as he rubbed his temples and tried to will away the headache he’d been battling since Sunday.

“Director gave us tomorrow off,” Jethro reminded him, sliding a bottle of ibuprofen across the table.

Tony popped the cap and took 3 pills with a large glass of water. “And I fully intend to sleep it away.”

Jethro grabbed a soda from the fridge and headed toward the basement, when Tony stopped him. “Hey…” he turned back to the dining room and raised his eyebrows in response. “How are things? I mean, I know I'm there _and_ I'm here, and things look ok, but looks can be deceiving.”

Jethro shrugged one shoulder and said “fine,” then turned back toward the stairs.  
  
“I’m serious.” Jethro stopped again and turned around with a sigh. Tony wasn’t going to let him off the hook.   
  
“What do you want to hear?” He grumbled.   
  
Tony dropped his hands to the table and closed his eyes. “It’s been over a week. In terms of the job, you’re surpassing everyone’s expectations. You’re catching on faster than most, you pick up details even seasoned agents miss, and your ‘gut’ calls are almost always dead on. That’s all great, but what about _you_ ?”   
  
Jethro sighed. He wanted the truth? Fine. “Is this the best job I’ve been given in the past 15 years? Absolutely. Am I glad that I at least get some respect? Yeah. Am I better off than I thought I’d ever be? Yes. But I still have to be reminded, every day, that this is just another slave position. I go where _you_ tell me, I sleep in _your_ home, I can’t go anywhere without a babysitter, and that will _never_ change. _That’s_ how I am.” He turned around and descended the stairs to the basement. The closest thing to a sanctuary he had, but even there he was reminded of his position.   
  
Sometimes it _was_ better. Sometimes, while he was with the team or watching a movie with DiNozzo, he forgot he was a slave and actually felt normal. But sometimes that taste of freedom left a bitterness in his mouth he couldn’t get rid of. At least if he was in the fields or tarring roofs or building a garage, it was consistent. It wasn’t this in-between world where he could _mostly_ act like a free person, only to have that feeling wrenched away the second he saw that third tag on the chain around his neck. He’d gone the first week at ‘home’ and the first few days at work in a kind of shock and relief and hope that he’d have a better life. But his anger and bitterness were just held temporarily at bay. Now he saw them again, and he hated it even more.   
  
Tony dropped his aching head onto the table. Shit. He’d known something was up, but the words felt like a punch to the gut. _I go where_ **_you_ ** _tell me, I sleep in_ **_your_ ** _home._ Maybe in time, the formalities and legalities wouldn’t be as big of a deal, but he suspected it would be a _long_ time. He grabbed a beer and called Ducky.   
  
_“Anthony, you cannot expect someone to transition to such a life so quickly without some regression. He’s been thrown from a brutal life with routine abuse of various kinds, to a limbo where he is_ **_almost_ ** _free. It’s like he can see freedom, he can taste it, he can watch his peers experience it, but it’s always just beyond his reach. It has to be frustrating, combined with the rigors of such a change in duties to a career in federal law enforcement, he has to find his own way.”_   
  
“I know, Ducky. I just wish I could do more. Is there anything I can do? You’ve had slaves your whole life, well, your mother has, and it seemed like most of them were pretty happy. What did you do?”   
  
_“Mother preferred to choose people who were born into this, and had come from decent homes. They hadn’t experienced anything different. We treated them as equals, and the legalities didn’t sting as much because they’d always been a necessity for them. You cannot compare my situation with yours, I’m afraid. Also, we often had them scheduled for a date to have their records cleared and chips removed, so they had a light at the end of the tunnel. Most chose to stay with us as caretakers or other jobs, but some left, and those that stayed knew that they would have that privilege as well. With US laws as they are, Jethro does not have that hope.”_   
  
Tony sighed. “Everyone should have hope. Hell, I’m still looking through the laws and court cases whenever I can to try and find some loophole. I’m coming up empty, but I won’t stop trying.”   
  
“ _There’s not much else you can do. Just be a friend if he needs one.”_   
  
“Thanks Duck.”   
  
One beer wasn’t enough. Tony called for pizza and sat at his piano, waiting for inspiration. None came. He shook his head and got changed into sweats. When the pizza arrived, he paid, put the box into the slightly warmed oven, and called down to Jethro, “Pizza’s here, I’m going for a run.” All he heard in response was the rhythmic scrape of sandpaper over wood.   
  
After an hour of vigorous interval running, he stumbled into the house sweaty and panting. He needed to cut back on the pizza. But not tonight. He checked the oven and found the pizza where he’d left it—2 slices shy of a full pie, so at least Jethro had come upstairs to eat—and he grabbed a slice. He scarfed it down, lukewarm, and wrapped the rest and put it in the fridge. Upstairs, he let the water run over his damp and sticky skin, and instead of letting himself dwell on the pain he’d seen in Jethro’s eyes, he decided to sing. He channeled Aretha Franklin, using his can of shaving cream as a microphone, dancing to his own beat, singing “Respect” and a few others. Yeah, he felt better. Not great, because he knew there was nothing he could do for Jethro, but better.   
  
He pulled on his knit pants and decided he wanted another slice of pizza. When he opened the door, Jethro was standing in the hall, leaning against the wall, with one raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face. “What?” He asked.   
  
Jethro snorted, “Aretha Franklin?”   
  
Tony rolled his eyes, “Seriously? How thin are these walls? Yes, I bow to the queen of soul, sue me.” He jogged down the stairs, unwrapped a slice of pizza, and tossed it into the oven.   
  
“I don’t apologize.”   
  
Tony squeaked in surprise and jumped. When he caught his breath, he responded, “sign of weakness, right?” He was pretty damn sure several of the stairs, at least, creaked, so the fact that Jethro had snuck up on him that well was pretty impressive.   
  
Jethro folded his arms across his chest. “I know you’re doing your best. I’m grateful. Just didn’t want you thinking I wasn’t.”   
  
Tony nodded, “OK.”   
  
Jethro dropped his arms, “OK.” He turned and went upstairs without another word.   
  



	40. Tuesday+3 1700

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of child kidnapping and death, but nothing descriptive at all. Next chapter will have case-related details, but I'll make that warning then.

Jethro spent most of Tuesday on his own, between reading, a workout in the back yard, and a second coat of stain on the entertainment center. He knew he was probably moping, but it had been a long time since he'd been able to have a day just to himself, and he welcomed the quiet. Tony chose to stay out of his way, and they didn’t sit down together until Jethro knocked on the door to his office. “We’ve got chicken I can toss on the fire…” His way of inviting Tony down for dinner together. Tony closed the case file on his desk and stretched. “Thought we had the day off?” Jethro asked, noting the box of files resting on the desk.

“Yeah. But cold cases don’t go away. I might as well read through what I can when I get a chance. Give some people closure, maybe.” He patted the box, “1970s to 80s. Before my time, so it’s almost like reading scripts from old cop shows. Tiny notebooks and all that.”  
  
Jethro turned the open folder around to look at its contents. Photos, old case notes, and a page of notes from Tony—possible motives, witness inconsistencies, a note to check the DNA. “Want some help?”  
  
Tony grinned, “I’d love some. I only work on them maybe once or twice a week, but having a second pair of eyes will really help. Especially with some of this handwriting. Seriously, thank goodness we type ours up nowadays.” Jethro reached for another file, but Tony gently slapped his hand, “I heard you say chicken? We can get back to these later. Let’s go grill.” He stood up, stretched, and left the room, and Jethro took another look at the case he’d been working on. Murder of a Petty Officer who’d just started shore leave. Tony’s note questioned the timing of the assault—had he been on the ship at the time? Jethro flipped to the next page, and Tony called from the first floor, “Come on workaholic!” so Jethro closed the folder. As it shifted, he saw another, newer folder beneath it, with his ID and name on the tab. He lifted that one and found another unlabeled folder, thick with a variety of pages, beneath it. And a notepad with scribbled notes referencing case law regarding captured slaves, overturned sentences, foreign citizenship, a list of contacts to call, most of them crossed off angrily…he dropped the folders and took a breath. Judging by the amount of paperwork in the unlabeled folder, and the depth of the notes, Tony had been at this for a while. He clicked the lamp off and left the room. He needed to think about this before he brought it up.  
  
The rest of the week was cold cases and a couple of minor calls that were solved within the day. They were on call that weekend, so Tony knew he couldn’t plan anything too crazy for their Friday night, but he needed to get out and DO something. “What are your plans for tonight?”  
  
Jethro sat in the passenger seat of the car and gave him a look that implied, ‘are you dense?’  
  
“Seriously…I mean, if you have a hot date with your…whatever you’re making now, that’s cool, but I’m going a little stir crazy.” Tony was babbling, further evidence of his cabin fever, “I was gonna ask Abby if she wanted to go to a club, but I don’t see you as the leather pants and eyeliner type…” Jethro just blinked at him. An intense blink, Tony thought. “And I know you don’t drink, so maybe a plain old bar is out, but do you play pool? Darts? Bowling?” More blinking.  
  
“DiNozzo…did you just ask me on a date?” The car swerved a little as Tony tried to regain his composure.  
  
“No! I mean, well, like a friend-date…is that a thing? I don’t know, I’m not usually this…awkward. I just wanna hang out, and as much as I like James Bond and the Duke, I can only take so much couch time, but I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to…” He hoped he didn’t look as desperately uncertain as he really was. This whole suggesting-something-and-not-wanting-Jethro-to-feel-like-it’s-an-order balancing act.  
  
“OK. Pool.” Jethro nodded, and Tony exhaled in relief.  
  
*****  
  
“8 ball, corner pocket.” Jethro bent over the table, avoiding the three striped balls directly under his stomach, and sunk the final shot. “Makes 3 to 1. Pony up.”  
  
Tony groaned and downed his beer. “Come on! You could’ve warned me you’re a shark! You totally led me on with that first game!”  
  
“Or it’s the beer.” Jethro smirked and grabbed his cup of ice water.  
  
Tony was downright pouting. He wasn’t used to being beaten at pool. Even McGee couldn’t make him lose at pool, no matter how distracting he was trying to be. And Tony wasn’t even distracted! “One more. Double or nothing.”  
  
“Can you afford that?” Jethro looked smug.  
  
“Rack ‘em.” Tony rubbed his cue with the chalk and quickly realized maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He WAS three beers down, and he WAS starting to get distracted. For creeping up to 50, Jethro certainly had a fine ass…  
  
“You gonna break?”  
  
“What? Oh…right…” Tony scurried to the end of the table and paused.  
  
“I’m starting to think this might be considered theft…” Jethro mused, as Tony leaned down to take his shot.  
  
He stood back up, “What?”  
  
“I said, maybe we should just stick with our winnings and play this one for fun, so I don’t feel like I’ve robbed you blind.” Jethro explained as he stepped forward and waved his fingers in front of Tony’s face, causing him to waver just a little.  
  
“No. I made a bet. Can’t go back just cuz you’ve got a slight, TINY advantage.” Crap, he really shouldn’t have chugged the last of that beer.  
  
“We’ll play for dinner. Loser pays. Still a bet, and I won’t feel bad when I win.” Jethro responded.  
  
“When ** _I_ ** win, you mean.” Tony grinned and took aim.

*****

“Thanks,” Tony said, two hours later, as he was signing the receipt at the diner.  
  
“For what? Kicking your ass? Any time.” Jethro chuckled as he finished his coffee.  
  
“No, for having fun. I had a good time. Next time, darts.” Tony grinned.  
  
“I’m a sniper…you remember that, right?” Jethro raised his eyebrows.  
  
“Poker?” Tony asked  
  
Jethro just circled a finger around his face and blank stare. The perfect poker face.  
  
“Crap. Oooh, I know…KARAOKE!” He grinned, hopeful…  
  
“No. Not even when I drank.”  
  
“Damn.”  
  
“Fishing?” Jethro asked  
  
“Worms and dirt don’t really mesh with cashmere and Armani…” Tony scrunched his face and shook his head.  
  
“Camping?”  
  
“Sleeping on the dewy ground doesn’t sound like an exciting weekend to me…”  
  
Jethro sighed, “well, if we’re talking weekends, what about boats?”  
  
Tony thought about it. “What kind of boats? Cuz I’m not going on some trawler fishing for Jaws or anything, and ‘I'm not going to waste my time arguing with a man who's lining up to be a hot lunch.’”  
  
Jethro laughed, “I don’t know what’s around here, but my family and I used to go sailing when I was a kid.”  
  
“I’ll ask around. Obviously not until spring, though.” And Jethro nodded in agreement as they left the diner.  
  
*****  
“Crap.” Tony rolled over and chased his cell as it skittered across the nightstand and hit the floor. “Damnit. DiNozzo……. On our way.”

He jumped up and pulled pants on, hopping across the hall to Jethro’s door as he rang McGee. “Up and at 'em, we got a call,” he banged on Jethro's door and heard a grunt and feet hit the floor.

“ _Tony, what's up? It’s 3am…”_

“Gear up McGee. Call Kate. I'll text you the address.” He hung up the phone and pulled on his shirt. Jethro stumbled out of his room, socks in hand, and the pair made their way to Tony’s car. “Missing kid. Coffee on the way.” Tony grunted, and Jethro nodded.

After the coffee, as Tony pulled the address onto his GPS, he said, “look, if you wanna sit this one out…”

“Why?” Jethro asked. The scene had been cleared, he was allowed to work a crime scene, just not apprehend suspects.

“Because. It's a missing kid. And she’s 9. And you've only been here a couple of weeks.” His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as he raced through traffic.

“I can handle it.” He didn't know if he was trying to convince Tony or himself.

*****

“Sergeant Bergen,” Jethro sat with the Marine as Tony and Kate talked with his wife, “we're gonna do everything we can to get your daughter back.” He clenched his jaw and looked the man in the eye. “I promise you, I will do _everything._ ” He saw the tears and the fear. He saw himself 15 years ago. And he damn sure was gonna find the sonofabitch who did this. He just hoped it was in time to save that little girl,

“Ooh-rah.” The man whispered. Jethro nodded. Marines can spot another Marine a mile away. “Thank you sir.”

He clapped a hand to the man’s shoulder, “haven't been 'sir’ in a long time. But your orders are to take care of _her_ , Sergeant.” He motioned towards Mrs. Bergen. “We’ll take care of Julia.” He saw Tony motion to him, and he squeezed the Sergeant's shoulder once more. He handed him Tony's card, his cell written on the back. “If you think of anything, call.” The man nodded and closed the distance to his wife in 2 strides.

In the car, Jethro stayed quiet. This felt bad. Kate had stayed behind to take the first shift with the family in case a ransom demand was made.

“Jethro, get the evidence to Abby, she should be here by now, then get back here and see if you can find any cases matching this MO. Start local and branch out, we might get help on this one. McGee, you're on financials. Anyone and everyone connected with the family.” Tony sent everyone on their way, armed with caffeine,

By 6am, Jethro had found 4 cases over the past 9 months, all being handled by different agencies. NCIS had this one, DC Metro had one a month ago, Army CID had another three months ago, and Baltimore PD had one 9 months ago. All 9-10 year old brunettes, all outgoing and into sports and animals. The Baltimore girl was found 6 months later...not alive. When Jethro reported his findings, it was all he could do to keep himself professional. He wanted to skin whoever did this.

At 8am, a team of men in black suits, led by a shorter bald man, strode into the bullpen. “Where's DiNutzo?” He demanded of Jethro.

“Not my turn to watch him.” Jethro replied, and went back to his call.

McGee snorted at the look on the FBI agent's face. The man was used to getting his own way. Napoleon syndrome, McGee always thought. Short, bald, power hungry.

“Toby!” Tony came around the corner, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” He grinned, but Jethro and McGee could tell his jaw was set and ready for a fight.

“We’re taking the case, DiNutzo.”

“Like hell you are. You think I'm gonna trust some feebs to find this Marine’s kid? No way in hell. But you can _help._ ” Tony dug in his heels. He really didn't have time for a pissing match, but he didn't trust the FBI as far as he could throw them. “Buying me a bottle of crappy bourbon for Christmas won't buy my trust. I'm not that easy.”

“It's four kidnappings in less than a year, and across state lines. It's OUR jurisdiction.” The shorter man wasn't intimidated by Tony's youth or his height, and stepped into his personal space. “And you know it.”

“Joint.” Tony conceded. The man considered it, nodded, and turned toward Jethro. “Tobias Fornell, FBI. Tony and I go way back, don't we?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “how many times did you arrest me for murder? Twice? Three times now? Enough with the pleasantries, Agent Fornell, Agent Gibbs. Names exchanged, let’s get moving.”


	41. Saturday+4 0945

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: child sexual abuse and underage prostitution discussed and described. Not terribly specific, but of it bothers you, I'll provide a simple chapter summary in the end note.
> 
> The tags are updated as 'implied/referenced' things that will come up as part of the case, or part of our current characters' histories, but not described in great detail.

Tony wasn’t the only one to dig his heels into the dirt. Everyone in the bullpen heard Vance on the phone with the director of the FBI, and after the loud slam of a phone, Fornell’s phone rang. “Yes ma’am.” He hung up the phone, “Fine, DiNutzo. You’re on point.”  
  
Tony grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “McGee, take one of the Feebs and relieve Todd. Gibbs, let’s go over the scene.” The pair pored over the evidence from the girl’s room, the back yard, the street, everything they could find. When Kate got there, she started searching outside the area, and got a hit at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. She and Tony went to talk to the officers assigned the cases, and returned that afternoon with videos. “On the plasma,” Tony whispered, and turned his back to the screen. He’d seen it too many times already—it was on repeat in his head. The missing, and now murdered, girl from Baltimore was larger than life, crying, as her captors listed her ‘attributes’ like this was a goddamn ebay auction. Even though Tony couldn’t see him, he could hear Jethro fuming and snarling. Fornell was having a similar reaction. When the clip was over, Fornell grabbed his elbow. “I don’t give a damn what we have to do, but this will end with us, you hear me DiNozzo?”  
  
Abby cried the whole time she watched the video. Over and over again, trying desperately to find some clue as to its location. Finally, after the 8th viewing, she heard a train horn in the background as she was isolating different layers of the audio. She started working furiously, pulling up train schedules, analyzing the timestamp for accuracy, the type of horn and the number of bursts, the distortion as it moved to delineate speed, as much information as she could gather. As her fingers flew across the keys, she jumped when she saw a caf-pow dropped onto her desk. “Whadaya got, Abs?” She turned to see Agent Gibbs standing behind her, dark circles under his eyes, a scowl etched on his face. She grabbed the drink and pulled the straw into her mouth, typing as she went. “Abby!” He growled, and she slammed the cup down,  
  
“Gimme a second, I’m on a roll!” Gibbs watched as windows popped up and minimized, her hands sped across the keyboard and mouse, and finally, a picture popped up on the screen. “There.”  
  
“What, Abby?” he raised his eyebrows.  
  
“The Amtrak passenger train that leaves DC at 12:45pm headed west. This video was taken approximately 15 miles away from DC, and about a mile south of the track.” She pulled up a map of the area and a bright red oval appeared, “somewhere in this area. The train left on time that day, and the conductor’s records indicate he speeds a little, so consider the edges of my search grid to be a little fuzzy.”  
  
Gibbs heard her printer whirring, and he grabbed her shoulder and planted a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks.” Before she could react, he’d taken the map off the printer and left. If the case wasn’t so horrible, she would have squealed.  
  
After much digging, the NCMEC found several more videos that matched the location of the Baltimore girl’s case. Abby took a few minutes in the bathroom with Kate, before the two of them watched each video and after the third one, they got a break. Someone else entered the room, and Abby caught his reflection on the window. She’d seen a few reflections already, but it appeared the suspect always wore some sort of face covering. This guy wasn’t that smart, though, and after some serious searching, Abby got a hit. He’s a felon, a con artist, living about 5 miles north of where Julia Bergen was taken. Tony called McGee and the two of them brought an FBI team to bring him in.  
  
“We SAW you in that room! That girl is DEAD. An innocent child, you selfish sonofabitch.” Tony’s calm and collected interview skills had gone out the window by about minute two with this guy. He was a con man, no doubt, but not a murderer. He was holding out, but Tony knew he’d crumble. “And from the evidence on her body, she was RAPED. At 10 fucking years old. You know what they do to pedophiles in prison, bub? Believe me, I’ll make damn sure you’re in gen pop.” Tony’s voice went deep into his chest and rattled the table, and it was obvious this was no idle threat.  
  
“I’m no pedo. Sick fuck.” The guy leaned back on the chair. “I just nab the kids, OK? What happens to ‘em then isn’t my concern.”  
  
Tony slammed his hand onto the table. “YOU put them there, it makes YOU an accessory, at the very least. You’ll be charged with everything I can think of, including murder. So yes, it IS your concern.”  
  
It was late by the time the guy admitted to his con. He’d scope out the neighborhood under the guise of a dog walker. Sometimes he’d even gain clients in the area to help his believability. He’d watch for kids playing, who was outgoing and trusting, who was attracted to the dogs, and he’d sneak photos of the kids playing with the dogs. His contact would choose one of his suggestions, and eventually he’d work the con. Running frantically through their backyard, tapping on a window to wake the child, he’d convince them to help him look. Once the kids were outside, he’d drug them and drop them at a different location each time, and money was wired into his account. If one kid refused, he’d move on to another, and if both refused, he’d leave the area to avoid suspicion. He’d be kept around for the next week, in case there were issues, and he’d be notified if everything had gone according to plan and he could move on.  
  
Abby had his computer in the lab, and fairly quickly cracked his passwords. Apparently “moneyluvr” isn’t too hard to figure out. She searched his hard drive, even though he erased his browsing history daily, and found _the_ site. She gasped when she saw the listings and the disgusting comments on the pages dedicated to selling people. Not just these girls, but it was like ebay for sex and human traffickers. Julia Bergen was listed on the site already, but no photos or video was posted. She had to keep doing behind-the-code stuff, so she sent the link to Tony.  
  
“McGee, Todd. I need you to watch every one of these videos assigned to this username.” They both blanched, but nodded. “Find ANYTHING you can that might help us ID this guy.”  
  
Jethro gave him a questioning look as he walked out of the bullpen. Tony angled his head toward the crook of the stairs and Jethro followed. “Before you object, NO. I’m not putting you, or Fornell, or anyone else with kids, on the task of analyzing these videos even remotely objectively. They won’t like it, but they’ll be better at compartmentalizing it than if you’ve got kids or you’ve seen…” he stopped and shifted his weight, then started again, “just no. It’s not about you being a probie, or experience or anything, it’s a judgment call.” He squared his shoulders, turned, and walked away.  
  
Kate and McGee sat next to each other in the conference room. They were starving, but neither seemed interested in anything but coffee—afraid their stomachs would turn the second something solid entered their mouths. Suddenly, Kate shouted. “There! Someone else in the room!” McGee gratefully stopped his video and looked at the part of the screen where Kate was pointing. Sure enough, in the corner, his head hanging low, was a boy. Older than most of the kids in these videos, but not by much. Young teens maybe. McGee transferred the clip to a flash drive and ran out of the room before Kate could react. She slouched into her chair and returned to the videos.  
  
“Abby, I need you to enhance this and run it through missing persons. It’s three years old, so look for at least three and up to...10 years ago. Just to be safe.” He hovered behind her as she opened the search program.

“I'll search any other facial recognition programs I can find, McSpectacles.” She pointed at the readers he had on top of his head.

“I can't stare at a computer screen for 12 hours with my contacts, Abby, you know that.” He turned and left, hoping it wouldn't take too long for Abby to find a match. They'd already searched for the subjects of the videos, but maybe this kid was different. He wasn't for sale, maybe he’d hold some kind of clue.

“DiNozzo” Tony picked up his phone ungracefully and wiped the back his hand across his mouth to get rid of the line of drool on his chin. “On it.” He grabbed the remote and clicked a few buttons until he was connected to Abby’s lab. “Got a lead, kids, up and at 'em.”

Abby yawned as she rolled onto the screen, scooting across the lab on her chair. “Ok guys and gals, for my next trick, I'll pull a missing and now found kid out if my hat…” her attempt at humor was bland at best, and nobody smiled, including her. “Jeremy Prevost. Missing at age 10 from Philadelphia, showed up again at age 16 as James Hornby when he was arrested in DC and sent to Juvie for solicitation. He was there for a few months, got picked up again earlier this year, but charges were dropped when he gave up information to metro about a John who'd been roughing up young men.”

“Where is he now, Abby?” McGee asked, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the keyboard marks from his face.

“Probably the same place he was picked up before.” Tony's phone buzzed with a text, “sent you the address bossman. Go pick up a hooker.”

*****

“Hey there, lookin for a date?” Tony scanned the area uncomfortably as he waved a young woman away. Another nodded at him as he passed, but he ignored her.

“Whatcha lookin’ for big guy?” An older prostitute in drag sidled up to him. _Closer_ , he thought. He was the king of undercover, so even though he’d worn a decent suit, he didn't scream Fed.

“Sorry sweet cheeks...I'm lookin' for younger. Maybe a little butcher.” He ran a finger along the bright red feather boa.

“Ten bucks and I can point you in the right direction…” Tony felt a hand on his hip and he flicked a ten dollar bill out of his pocket before his wallet could disappear.

“That a way, one more block. There's a few guys there who’ll swing your way. But when you're done playing with the kids...I'll give you a discount baby.” He smiled and, in character, slapped the guy’s ass.

“I'll think about it.” Tony sauntered away, trying to keep his confidence. He was exhausted.

 _“Ok, boss, we found the area he was talking about. Looks like he was right. Younger guys, seem to be dressed more in leather pants and eyeliner than mini skirts and boas.”_ Tony heard McGee in his earpiece.

_“Ooh, Tony, maybe you should have gone undercover on the other side! You look great in leather pants and eyeliner!”_

_Thanks, Abby._ Thought Tony.

Tony approached the group of 5 or 6 young men, who seemed to have some kind of system or order, as one broke from the group and sidled up to him. “Hey man, anything I can do for you tonight?” This kid was more aggressive in his pursuits than the others he'd met tonight, and brought a hand toward Tony's groin.

Tony grabbed his wrist before he made contact and shook his head. “I prefer redheads. A friend told me he'd met someone here for a date...I figured I'd check him out.”

The young man shrugged, “James is the only redhead here, but he's busy right now. If you want to have him as a main course, I can certainly provide the appetizer…” He licked his lip suggestively, but frowned when Tony didn't respond. After another second, he waved over Tony's shoulder, “he’s coming back now. Go have fun.”

Tony turned around and saw the kid walking toward him. “Ty seemed to think you'd be interested in me? Looking for some white meat?” He leaned his short, thin form against Tony and wiggled suggestively.

Tony’s stomach wrenched inside. This kid was 17. Hell, most of these kids were under age. But he played the op. “Yeah, I like redheads. Wanna go for a ride?”

Jeremy/Jason draped himself on Tony's arm, playing the part of the adoring 'date’ far too well. In another situation, had this been a 20-something he picked up at a bar, he'd be pretty damn convinced. They walked to Tony's car, which was actually McGee's silver Audi, and Tony held the passenger door open. “Ooh, I picked myself a gentleman!” Tony smiled and bowed a little as the kid took his hand and slid into the car.

“So...you want the whole deal? I've ridden backwards in the driver's seat before, if you know what I mean,” Jeremy/Jason said as he reached for Tony’s belt.

“I've got a hotel room.” Tony said, grasping the kid’s hand gently. “I can't get caught here.” He was playing the important businessman, it made sense. The kid nodded and sat back in his seat. “Seatbelt?” He rolled his eyes like any other teenager, but pulled the belt across himself.

Tony pulled into the parking lot of the nearby motel and Jeremy/Jason relaxed. It was sad that seeing a seedy motel was more comfortable than riding in a car. _At least this is familiar for him,_  Tony thought.

He turned off the car and held out a hand to the boy, who immediately plastered himself to Tony, rubbing himself against Tony's groin. “Oooh, I like a challenge,” he said, obviously noting that Tony was not aroused in the least.

“Room 5,” Tony responded, motioning in the direction of the room. He unlocked the door, trying hard to not pull himself away from the wandering hands of the kid leaning against his back. As the door shut, he grabbed the kid's hands. “Stop. I'm a federal agent.”

Jeremy's eyes went wide, “I never asked for money, I just wanted to hang out… You can't arrest me again!” He tried to pull out of Tony's grasp, but Tony wasn't letting go, and Kate emerged from the bathroom.

“I'm not here to arrest you, Jeremy.” Tony tried to find his eyes.

“Jason. My name is Jason.” The kid hung his head and Tony felt the fight leaving his body.

“No. You're Jeremy Prevost. You've been missing for 7 years, and we know you've been dealt a shitty hand, but we need your help.”

He shook his head. “Jeremy died. He’s gone.” Suddenly he sounded like a kid again.

“Nope. Just lost. It's your call what happens after this, but right now we need your help.” Tony put a hand on the kid's shoulder and led him back to the door, with Kate following behind. McGee and Fornell were outside, just in case they needed more backup, but the kid fell into the back of Tony’s NCIS-issued car, with Tony driving and Fornell in the passenger seat, as McGee drove his car back with Kate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:
> 
> The team figures out that kids are being kidnapped by a con man and dropped off at different locations, then taken away a week later. There's a website that shows the 4 girls aren't the only ones, and they find one kid who is now 17 and living as a prostitute in DC. They just picked him up with Tony posing as a customer.


	42. Sunday+4 0530

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another warning: underage prostitution/rape investigated and described by victim/witness. See the end for a summary.

“Sweetheart, I don't usually swing your way, but I've been known to make an exception. Let’s get outta here and I'll repay the favor.” Jeremy leaned on the table toward Kate and winked.

“I hate when people call me sweetheart. I'm just here to find out what you know about this room.” She spun a photo toward him and he flinched.

“Don't know it.” He pushed the photo back toward her.

“Really? Because this is a still from a video...there's nobody in  _ this _ frame, but in another one…” she pulled another still from the folder in front of her, and behind the crying blonde girl, you could clearly see a younger Jeremy slumped in the corner.

“Who's she?” He asked, unconvincingly.

“Alyssa Ryan, went missing 3 years ago from Wilmington. And behind her?” Kate raised her eyebrows, hoping the kid would cave.

“Some poor schmuck stuck in the room with her. So what? Baby, I don't care about stupid kids. You need to get laid, I can tell. I can see it in your eyes. Let's blow this pop stand.” He rallied and slid back into his façade of tough and careless criminal.

Kate sighed. They'd hoped putting her in the box with this kid would open him up a bit, that he was so used to dealing with men using him, that a woman would have a positive effect. Apparently not. The door opened and Tony strode in. “Out.” He held the door for Kate as she left. She’d done well, but he needed answers, so a change in tactics was warranted. He tried the sit-n-stare approach, resting his feet on the table again.

“I never caught your name. You know, if you'd just told me who you were, we could have gotten through this a lot faster. Cops ride for free.” He resumed his flirting, trying to throw Tony, but he got no response. “Come on, you think you're the first cop to 'pump’ me for information? At least you're pretty. I wouldn't mind giving you freebies, babe.”

“I don't need anything from you except this information.” Tony replied flatly.

“Oh, but I'm a hell of a lot more talkative with a cock in my ass, if you know what I mean.” He gave a throaty moan and chuckled, hoping to see a response from Tony. When nothing happened except a raised eyebrow, he changed his line of 'seduction.’ “Or maybe you're a catcher, huh? Not my usual thing, but it's definitely in my repertoire. Big bad cop just wants to be bent over and spanked like a bad little boy? Let me fuck your ass until it burns for days?”

Jethro was fuming in observation. He was impressed that Tony wasn't responding. This was disgusting. But he saw what Tony was doing. Let the kid spew everything he had, and when he was done, maybe he’d break. He’d used sex to get everything in life for god knows how long, he wasn't going to stop here. He reread the file of everything Abby had dug up, and he had an idea. “McGee,” he motioned for McGee to follow him. He didn't have time to be harassed by security right now, and McGee was  _ technically _ his immediate supervisor.

The pair left observation and headed for the bullpen, where Jethro pulled a button up shirt from his go bag and pulled off his polo. “Uh, Jethro?” McGee was too tired to do anything besides toss him a questioning look as the man stood in front of him in his undershirt.

“Kid’s dad died when he was 4. Navy SEAL. He’s got no strong parental figure, so guess what?” He pulled a mirror from Kate’s desk and handed it to McGee, then grabbed his scissors. “Hold this.” He did what he could to bring his hair back to something that might be close to military issue, asking McGee to check the back, and then pulled on the button up shirt. He tucked it in tight, made sure everything was aligned properly, and grabbed the folder.

“Tony doesn't like being interrupted,” McGee said.

Jethro nodded and tossed him his cell. “Send him a text message thing. I want a crack at this kid.”

McGee looked at the phone like it was foreign technology. “ _ This _ is the phone you picked? It's a dinosaur!” He tossed it back to Gibbs and unclipped his own phone from his belt, speaking to someone named Siri as they went back to the interrogation rooms.

By the time they arrived, Tony was shutting the door behind him and leaned against the wall. “I shouldn't, but fine. He's making me need a shower.”

Gibbs decided to let the kid wait. Eventually, he stood and started pacing. That's when Jethro knew it was time. He straightened his collar, smoothed his hair, tucked the folder under his arm, and entered the room. “Sit down, boy.” He pulled the chair out and lifted his chin at the kid.

“Ooh you think you're the first tough guy cop--”

“When I say sit, you sit.” Jethro interrupted. Cautiously, the boy sat, and Jethro stood across the table looking through the file. “Now, I'm not going to take your lip, and I'm not going to coddle you. You're almost a man, and I need you to start acting like one.” He said, staring the kid in the eyes.

“I'm more of a man than--”

“No. You're 17 years old, Jeremy. Whatever happened to you wasn't right, but it's damn well not an excuse to let more kids suffer. So you're going to sit down, suck it up, and answer our questions like a man. And when this is over, we’ll deal with what happened to you 7 years ago. Got it?” He leaned closer to the kid’s face. He’d dealt with punk kids entering the Marines, he saw the breakdown behind his eyes. “Got it?” He asked again.

Finally, the kid swallowed and nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Good.” Jethro brought his tone back to normal, but stayed standing. “Tell me about this room.” He pointed to the photo Tony had left on the table of the empty room.

“It’s where…” Jeremy took a deep breath. “It's where he does his videos. It’s soundproof, so nobody…” Jethro saw his hands shaking.

“Hey. You're doing good, son. Breathe through it and tell me.” This time, Jethro swung a chair next to Jeremy and sat down, a hand on the back of his neck. And the truth came spilling out.

“At first, it was just him, you know? He'd… Do things, then just leave me alone. And he'd record it in that room. Then, when I got older, he made me help get other kids.” His shaking was worse, and the tears started to flow. “I'm no better than him. I brought kids to him. Just so he'd stop hurting me. I deserve this life.”

“Stop.” Jethro squeezed his neck slightly. “You stop that right now. You were a kid. He's the monster. Just tell me what happened. No blame, just the facts.”

Jeremy sniffled and ran the back of his hand across his face and nodded. “We stayed other places, but we kept coming back here for his videos. He said nobody would be suspicious of him there. Eventually he stopped doing such horrible things as much, but instead of selling videos, he was selling the kids. Like they were slaves, but kids. Even slave kids can't be sold that young, and I tried to help them, I tried to be their friend while they were there, they were so little. I mean, I guess I was that little when I got there…” He hiccuped and tried to hide his tears. “And then he wanted to make another video. He told me I was old enough to help him in other ways. I was too old to be the only star in his movies, but I could take his place. He made me…”

Jethro pulled Jeremy to his chest, knowing the sound would be muffled, but he didn't think the kid could last much longer without it. “It’s alright. You're safe now.”

“No, I'm not!” Jeremy pulled away. “She was 12. She was older than his usual, but looked young. He said she’d bring more money in his videos than being sold. He said it was either him or me, so I did it. And I couldn't stop, and I  _ finished _ . That's what I am. I'm the same as him. So when this is over, lock me up or send me back where I can make money on my back like I deserve.” He practically spit the last sentence in Jethro's face and yanked himself away in disgust.

Jethro heard a loud bang and saw the mirror to observation shudder with the impact. He glanced up, but kept talking. Eventually, they got more information about the location, and Jethro heard a knock on the door. “I gotta go, but let me tell you something.” He waited until the kid was looking at him, and handed him his handkerchief. “ _ You _ are not a monster. Rape victims can't control their physical reactions.” His voice dropped to a low whisper as he leaned close to the kid's ear, “I know.” He pulled back and resumed his normal volume. “What happened was rape. He raped you over and over again, and that included that time. He raped her through you. I will be back, I promise you.”

Jethro stood, bringing the folder with him, and told Kate to get the kid some food. As the door shut, he asked where Tony had gone.

“Don’t know.” McGee answered. “He left before we got the location details, he's not with Abby, and he left his cell on his desk. He hasn't left the building, though.”

Jethro nodded. “You're in charge if he’s not here, right?” McGee nodded, but Fornell turned the corner.

“Oh no, no computer geek is taking this over just because DiNutzo decided to take a pee break. This is mine. Since you're low man on the totem pole, probie, go find your boss.” McGee shrugged and nodded as Fornell started barking orders and the team scattered.

Jethro checked the conference rooms, bathrooms, closets, gym, but no DiNozzo. Finally, he opened the door to the locker room and heard hard breathing coming from one of the toilet stalls. “DiNozzo?” He approached cautiously and saw who he suspected was Tony, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall next to a toilet. He knocked on the locked door, “We got a lead. Fornell’s trying to snake the case.”

A few seconds later, Tony whispered, “Let him. I can't lead this one.” He took a few quick breaths, and Jethro saw him shift and heard him dry heaving. He pulled his knife from his belt and twisted the lock open, almost hitting Tony as it swung free. “Jesus, can't a guy upchuck in peace?”

Jethro sat next to him. “Nope.”

“Shit.” Tony leaned back against the wall and slammed his head against the cold metal. “I’m no good on this. Go, help McGee. Don't kill him. Catch this motherfucker.  _ Him _ you can kill.”

Jethro didn't move.

“I said go.” Tony snarled, pushing against Jethro and trying to stand and turn his back.

“Is that an order?” Jethro asked.

“To my subordinate. To my probationary agent. Go.”

“Thought you said Fornell was leading the team for now?” Jethro mused.

“Yes, now report to him.” Tony was getting pissed.

“Already did. He said to find you. So, either I follow my current boss’s orders, or my owner’s. Which is it?” He didn't want to use this against Tony, but he knew it'd work.

Tony sunk back to the floor in defeat. “You're getting somewhere on the case. Why bother with me? Just go.”

“No man left behind.”

“Have I mentioned how much I hate Marines sometimes?” Tony groaned. But his stomach was feeling better at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They bring Jeremy in for questioning, and he reveals he was taken and abused, then forced to lure other kids, then forced to rape a girl on camera. The room was used for the suspect's videos only, they changed where they were living/staying frequently. Tony disappears, Fornell takes point, and Jethro finds Tony retching in the bathroom.


	43. Sunday+4 10:30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mention of what we know happened in previous chapters, but nothing descriptive. Violent language and a little 'excessive force'

OK, What can I do?” Tony said, as he strode back into the bullpen.  
  
Fornell jumped up and waved his finger, “Oh no, you left, I had to get this crap back on track, you don’t get to waltz in here and—“  
  
Tony put a hand on his shoulder. “Your case, I get it. Find me something to do. _Now_.”  
  
Shocked, Fornell nodded. “OK. We’ve got an address. McHacker over here broke into all kinds of cyber places that I don’t want to know about and found where the payments to the dog walker were coming from. No reports of anyone coming or going for months, and the place looks vacant. I had a team go in about 10 minutes ago, and no sign of anything. We’re headed out to the scene now.”  
  
Tony nodded. “Gear up!” Everyone gathered their things, and Jethro raised his eyebrows in Tony’s direction. He answered with a nod, the scene was already secured. As they got to the car, Tony’s stomach threatened to betray him again, and he shot his team a look. Unfortunately, they’d already headed toward their assigned cars, and it was just him and Jethro. He tossed the keys across the car, almost expecting Jethro to miss it, but of course, he didn’t even look up until after they hit his hand. “You crash this, you’re fired,” Tony said, as he went around the front and lowered himself into the passenger seat.  
  
Jethro blinked at the keys in his hand and had a moment of panic. The fastest thing he’d driven in the past 15 years was a bucket loader. But there was a little girl to consider. He swallowed against the little voice nagging him that he’d screw this up again, and ran to the driver’s side. It’s just like riding a bike…except the bike has all kinds of buttons and levers and where the _hell_ is the switch for the lights? Is this a goddamn plane cockpit? Not only was the car a brand new 2007 Charger, but it was a police-issue Charger, which meant EXTRA switches and lights and buttons.  
  
“Gas pedal is still on the right.” Even in rough shape, Tony was being smarmy. Fine, if he wanted Jethro to use the gas pedal, he would. Jethro pulled the stick into drive and skidded out of the garage. “Jesus! I’d like to make it there in one piece!” Tony shouted.  
  
“You wanted me to drive.”  
  
“Yeah, and if I wanted to fly, I’d have gone to Dulles!” This was not helping Tony’s stomach. Actually, maybe it kinda was. It kept him focused on the present, at least.  
  
*****   
  
“Abby!” Tony’s voice shook Abby’s sleeping form, and she jumped to her feet, eyes still closed, hand on her forehead in a poor excuse for a salute.  
  
“Sir yes sir!” She wavered a bit before opening her eyes.  
  
“Stop dreaming and start analyzing. We’ve got evidence from this asshole’s house. Not much, but we need whatever we can get.” Tony dropped the tote full of evidence bags onto her table.   
  
“But dreaming about studly Marines is so much more fun,” she pouted. True to her nature, though, she was already milling through the bags and figuring out the fastest way to get through what they had found.  
  
Tony returned to the bullpen and sat at his desk, completely ignoring everything around him. He was focused on whatever tasks Fornell threw at him, and he put everything into it. He had to find these girls. Or at least Julia. Maybe saving even this one little girl would add to his penance. He’d had the same thought so many times since he joined law enforcement, but maybe this would be the case that made him feel better when they solved it.  
  
Jethro immediately honored his word and found Jeremy in a conference room with a sandwich and soda. “They treating you OK?” He asked as he sat next to him. Jeremy nodded. “And I meant it back there. Not just trying to get you to talk…” He leaned back in his seat and watched the boy. Maybe he was wearing torn jeans two sizes too small, a mesh shirt that revealed his pierced nipples, eyeliner, glitter, dyed spiked hair, and 8 chunky rings, but he was still just a kid.  
  
“Yeah, right. Like you care.” He slumped into his chair, as if he was trying to disappear into the fabric.  
  
“I don’t say anything I don’t mean, son.”  
  
“Lots of people say that. So why are you here? Don’t you have some kids to save?” He glared at Jethro over his sandwich.  
  
“Yeah. That’s why I’m _here_.” Jethro didn’t change his tone, and kept his face neutral. The kid didn’t want pity, but he deserved some genuine attention. There wasn’t much grunt work for him to do anyway, McGee was scouring what he could on the internet, Abby was going through the forensics, so he was best used here.  
  
“Shit, I don’t need saving. Maybe 7 years ago, but I ran. I got out. I’m _fine_.”  
  
“Really?” Jethro raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Yeah, _really_. Whatever I got goin on, it ain’t gonna change. Go find the little kids you can keep from being like me.” Jeremy raised his chin in an attempt at confidence, but the crack in his voice gave him away.  
  
“I meant it.” Jethro repeated.   
  
“Meant what? Huh? It’s not my fault? Bullshit. I could’ve tried harder, I could’ve run sooner, if I’d been stronger. But I gave up. What kind of man does that, huh?”  
  
“Plenty of _men_ give up. Plenty of _men_ wouldn’t have survived that. And you weren’t even a man, you were a _kid_. Which means you’re stronger than a lot of men I’ve met.” Jethro said, matter of factly. “And yes, I meant that too, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”  
  
Jeremy dropped his gaze to the sandwich in his hands. He chewed his bottom lip, obviously replaying their conversation. “that I couldn’t…y’know…stop _it_?” he said, quietly.   
  
“Again, not what I’m talking about now, but that’s true too. Like I said, I never say anything I don’t mean.” Jethro knew what was coming next. His jaw clenched, but he started this, he had to see it through.  
  
“But you said you _know_?”  
  
Yeah, that’s what he figured was coming. “Because you’re not the only one who’s orgasmed even if your brain didn’t want to.” He knew his face had stayed neutral, but his insides twisted at the thought. The laughter coming from Carl every time it happened. How it convinced him he was winning.  
  
Jeremy’s eyes were wide and he stared at the tough, obviously military, federal agent in front of him. “when you were a kid?”  
  
Jethro shook his head.  
  
“Oh.” He dropped his sandwich on the table and his head flopped back against the chair with a sigh. “I get that I’m not, like, the _only_ person to have shit happen to me. All of us on the streets are kinda in the same boat, y’know?” He spoke to the ceiling. “I just don’t think I can go back to being…normal. Hell, my job skills are blow jobs and making guys cum. What the hell else can I do?”  
  
“Go to school.” Jethro suggested.  
  
Jeremy laughed, “and live where? If I’m taking classes, I’m losing money. I lose money, I’m starving and homeless. If I’m homeless, I gotta stay in a shelter. I gotta tell ya, I’ve done that. No better than where you found me, except on the street I get to pick who fucks me and I get paid.”   
  
“We can help. And you still have family.” Jethro wasn’t sure how this would go, but they’d already gotten the contact information for Jeremy’s mother and stepfather. “What I was talking about, was that this has gotta be your call. Technically, we should’ve called your mom already, but we waited. What happens next is your call.” He passed the “missing” poster across the table. The photo at the top was age-progressed to about 16, the latest one his mother had created. Jeremy’s hand shook as he took it.  
  
“What is this?” He asked.  
  
“Your mom has them updated about every other year now that you’re older. Teenagers don’t change as quickly as kids. The software to do it isn’t perfect, but it’s not half bad.” He tried to picture the boy in front of him with a side part, polo shirt, and a genuine smile, and this photo came pretty close.  
  
Jeremy crumpled the paper and threw it across the room. “She’d hate me. That’s not me, not anymore, not ever again. Tell her I’m dead.” He was trying for anger, but his eyeliner was smearing as he rubbed the tears from his eyes.  
  
“No.” Jethro felt anger flare in his stomach. “I don’t care what you’ve done, or what happened to you, I can _guarantee_ she will love you, no matter what. I’d give anything to have my little girl back, even if she felt like she was messed up and couldn’t hold it together. I’d bend over backwards to make her know she was loved, and was _always_ loved.” He picked up the crumpled ball and flattened it, then slammed the room’s phone in front of Jeremy. “Dial 9 to get a line. Maybe the reunion wouldn’t be perfect, but she’s been searching for you for seven years. You both deserve a little hope.” He patted Jeremy on the back and left the kid alone with his choices. As he neared the bullpen, he heard Fornell shouting.  
  
“How the hell does this blasted thing work? Can’t you people use _phones_?!”  
  
“Let me, sir,” McGee said as he took the remote from his hands. “Hey, Abby, what’s up?”  
  
“I got a hit! So, Major Mass Spec is still running some stuff, but the tan fibers you found stuck on the nail in the floor? They come from a cherry red 1974 Chevelle. Original carpeting, and it has some shampoo residue, so I’m thinking it’s decently maintained. The owner of the house, a Martin Ryman, his father owned…wait for it…a cherry red 1974 Chevelle! He’s been dead 6 years now, but the car was never sold or transferred.” She grinned and waited for the pat on the head she was used to, but Fornell just clicked the power button. Jethro was pretty sure he could _hear_ her pouting from up here.  
  
Suddenly, the team exploded in a flurry of activity. “Get a BOLO out NOW!” Fornell shouted, and everyone was on the phone, sending emails, or faxing photos. Tony hadn’t said a word to anyone else, but he was typing like mad. Maybe he couldn’t think straight enough to coordinate this effort, but he damn sure could follow orders.  
  
Within a few hours, a call came in. An early model red Chevy Chevelle with stolen PA plates was spotted in the driveway of a house matching the description Jeremy had given. A 1920s duplex, grey with white trim, just like a hundred others in Abby’s search zone, but with that car, they knew it was _the_ house. “Let’s move!” Fornell shouted. Jethro looked at Vance at the railing above him and then back to his computer as he tightened his fists and curled his lip. Out of all the cases that he was stuck behind on, it had to be _this_? Saving a 9 year old girl? He had to sit here and just wait.  
  
“Why’re you sitting there probie?!” Fornell yelled, “All hands on deck!” He whirled into the elevator and Jethro jumped into action, grabbing his go bag. He didn’t have a badge or gun, but he wouldn’t let that stop him, and he damn sure wasn’t double checking with Vance on this. Better to ask forgiveness than permission. He pretended he didn’t hear his name being called from upstairs as the doors closed.  
  
As they pulled up to the house, they made sure to stop about a block away to go over the plan of attack. Vests were distributed, and Tony pulled Jethro aside. “Stay with me. Do NOT go all cowboy on us, OK? I can handle that part just fine, and we do NOT want anyone to even THINK that you can’t control yourself in this kind of situation or you'll be riding a desk for the next 10 years. And you’re not going in unarmed.” He leaned down and pulled his backup from his ankle, handing it to Jethro. “Don’t fire unless you have to, I’d rather if nobody knew I did this. Too much paperwork.”  
  
Jethro nodded and cinched his vest tighter.  
  
They approached the house quietly, teams covering the exits, with three teams going inside simultaneously. The house was a “zombie house,” foreclosed on by the bank about 9 years ago but the title was never transferred. It wasn’t really owned by anyone, and a lot of the houses on the block were the same. No wonder he knew nobody would be suspicious.  
  
SWAT ran cameras and thermals around the building and found the first and second floors vacant, but movement in the basement. The entry teams entered silently, and one positioned themselves at the Bilco door in the back, in case the suspect ran that way. Fornell stood at the door to the basement, listening, and he gestured for Tony to join him. The pair locked eyes and nodded, then suddenly Tony wound up and kicked in the door.   
  
“NCIS!”  
“FBI!”   
  
The teams all yelled at the same time, then Tony took over. Fornell let him handle the yelling and manhandling, he was under no delusions as to who was the more physically intimidating of the two of them. “Get on the ground, NOW!!” Tony yelled, shoving the middle aged man face-down onto the cement floor. Another, slightly younger man tried to run out the back, but they heard him fall back down the stairs as someone hit him in the face. Jethro and Fornell both rushed toward the crying girl in the center of the room but Jethro got there first and carried her upstairs and outside. Fornell stepped back and watched the scene in the basement with a smug grin.  
  
“It’s OK sweetie, we’re police. We’re gonna get you back to your mommy and daddy, OK?” Jethro held her close and stroked her back, never stopping his low, calm talking. The paramedics tried to take her, but she clung to Jethro with her arms and legs, her short fingernails digging into his neck, and he shook his head to them. He followed them to the ambulance and sat on the bumper, explaining everything they were checking. She never loosened her grip, but stopped flinching at their touch.  
  
Back in the basement, Tony had cuffed the older suspect and was standing over him as McGee searched his computer, shaking his head. “What’s your password?” He snarled at the man.  
  
“Fuck you, pig!” Ryman shouted, and Tony kicked him in the ribs.  
  
“You’re not my type. But you’ll certainly get PLENTY in prison. If you live that long. What’s your fucking password?” He grabbed the cuffs and pulled them up toward the man’s shoulder blades, knowing he could easily dislocate a joint or break a bone like this.  
  
“This is brutality! You can’t do this!” Ryman screamed, trying to get away from the pain in his shoulders and elbows.  
  
“The fuck I can’t. Give me your goddamn password, or you’ll have to be dragged out of here.” He relinquished the man’s cuffs in favor of rolling him onto his back and punching him in the face and gut.  
  
“I’ll have…you…charged” He coughed and spat blood onto the cement.  
  
Tony laughed. “Try me. Password.” His eyes were cold as he grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head back onto the floor.  
  
After a few more tries, Ryman sputtered his password and McGee announced “We’re in.”  
  
“Good. You, Abby, and the FBI geek squad shut this fucker DOWN.” He grabbed Ryman by the shirt and dragged him to the back of a squad car. As he turned, Fornell was standing behind him shaking his head. “What? Gonna arrest me for police brutality? Fine.”  
  
Fornell looked surprised. “For what? It’s a shame he started running, but what’re you gonna do? Sometimes they fall down and hurt themselves.”  
  
  
  



	44. Sunday+4 1900

With the car and evidence at the home, as well as Ryman’s assistant’s confession, they found three other girls in his motel, all kidnapped over the past week from different cities along the middle of the east coast. His contacts were found and caught, and with the password to his website McGee was soon loaned to the FBI to take down the entire trafficking ring. Once his NCIS reports were complete, he was gone for 3 weeks, received a medal for his efforts and they saved 27 kids ages 7 to 16. The FBI got all the credit, of course.  
  
Back at NCIS, Jeremy hung up the phone just as Jethro came back into the conference room. He was shaking, but he smiled…just a little. “She’s coming here, if that’s OK? She can’t leave for another hour until someone can come to watch…” he paused, rubbing a hand over his face, “someone has to babysit my little sister. I have a sister. She’s five.” He looked at his hands, at the black nail polish and then down at his clothes. “She can’t see me like this. Do you have…I don’t know, like, spare clothes or something?”  
  
Jethro sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. “I’ve already got someone bringing you something, and we have showers and stuff here.” Jeremy nodded and couldn’t help the hiccupping sobs that started coming. Jethro pulled him close and held him, motioning Jimmy to put his extra clothes onto the table when he poked his head in.  
  
Soon, Jeremy calmed down and sat back. “I messed up your shirt, I’m sorry…that’s waterproof…” he motioned to the black smudge on Jethro’s chest, and he just shrugged.  
  
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. All I’ve got is old spice, so you’ll probably smell like someone’s grandpa for a while, but you’ll be clean.” He reached into his go bag and pulled out a small bottle of body wash. “Here’s a razor if you want, it’s a cheap disposable, but it’ll work. And a comb.” He passed everything to Jeremy and placed them on top of the folded clothes in his arms. “There’s towels in here. Take your time.”  
  
Jeremy looked down and started to turn, then stopped. “Uh…Agent Gibbs? This may sound really weird, considering some of the stuff I’ve said to you guys today, but I’m not trying to be…whatever, never mind.” He turned, but Jethro cleared his throat.  
  
“Out with it.”  
  
Jeremy sighed. “I want these out.” He gestured toward his chest. “I only got ‘em cuz lots of guys think it’s hot, but they really bother me. I just…I can’t do it myself. They need tools or some shit.”  
  
Jethro nodded, “Go, shower, when you’re done we’ll deal with it.”  
  
Forty five minutes later, Jeremy was sitting on a bench in the locker room looking at Jethro incredulously. “Um...you sure you know what you're doing?” He glanced at the small wire cutters in Jethro's hand.

“Nope. But those loop things need to come off, right?”

“Yeah, but…” he took a deep breath and closed his eyes “Just don't clip anything extra, man.”

Jethro shook his head. “Kid, this is weird enough, just hold still.” He awkwardly reached down and, as quickly as he could and still be extremely careful, snipped the small rings. “There, can you do the rest?”

One side of each of the rings had fallen when Jethro snipped them, and the balls rolled away. Jeremy slid the remaining pieces out with a wince and threw them into the trash. “Thanks.” He slid the shirt over his head and smoothed his still-pink-tipped hair. “Let’s do this.”

His reunion with his mother was about as tearful as expected. Jethro sat down with the two of them and helped Jeremy explain a little of what had happened over the past 7 years, and he agreed that twice weekly counseling would be in order. There was no way he could talk to his mom about 90% of what happened, and Jethro knew full well that once the shock wore off, he’d be having issues that would make him want to run right back here. And he agreed to school. Jethro offered to have Tony write him a letter of recommendation for college.

“What about you? I mean, Agent DiNozzo is awesome, but you're the one who helped me, Agent Gibbs.” Jethro inhaled deeply. A letter from a slave would have zero merit at any school, even one who was a federal agent.

“Tony's the boss here. I can write _you_ letters, but a letter from him would be a hell of alot more impressive.” Jeremy considered this and nodded.

“As long as you _do_ write. Ok?”

Jethro smiled and ruffled his hair. “Sure thing. I promise.”

“What about the kids? You've been here with me a lot, so what happened...you know…” He tipped his head toward his mom, and Jethro knew he couldn't give any details.

“Four kids are safe because of what you told us. Not just the one we were looking for. And the FBI is finding a lot more. You saved a lot of lives today.”

Jeremy hugged his mother and the pair left. Jethro sought Tony out, but he wasn't in the bullpen or the bathroom. Then McGee tapped his shoulder and pulled him toward the elevator. When they were inside, Jethro hit the emergency stop before Tim could reach it.

“You wanted to talk?” Jethro still threw his defenses up in Tim’s presence, he couldn't help it, but he wanted to hear what the kid had to say.

“First, as far as as today is concerned, you were at your desk. Fix your reports before submitting them. You did good out there, but Vance ripped Fornell a new one for violating protocol, and had to explain why it was such a big deal.”

Jethro knew they couldn't keep it under wraps forever. “So he knows.”

“Yeah, but he doesn't care. Made a comment about being a slave to his ex wife’s alimony before he left. Anyway, I also wanted to tell you that Tony left a while ago. Either Vance or I can bring you home, but I wanted to warn you.”

“Warn me?” If Jethro were canine, his hackles would be raised.

“Hard cases like these tend to throw him, in case you didn't already notice. He won't be himself. Normally, I'd help, but he turned me down. It was easier to handle when we were together, and he’d be fine in the morning, and nobody ever knew. But this hit him harder than almost any I've seen. He's never freaked while working the case before. His past isn't rosy, and I don't know details, but I'm guessing something hit too close to home.” Tim paused, leaning against the wall of the elevator, “it may be an odd request, given the circumstances, but...take care of him, ok? At least check on him tonight?”

Jethro saw the look of concern on Tim’s face and realized this had nothing to do with him or his position. It was about taking care of Tony. He had an inkling, but he asked, “how would you have helped?”

Tim snorted, “what would I do tonight, or what did I do when we were together?” His eyebrows were raised suggestively.

“Not sex.” Jethro rolled his eyes.

“Watch a movie, give him a massage, wash him in the shower, stuff like that. He didn't get a lot of affection as a kid, and he shuts down sometimes.”

“A movie I can do. You wanna drive me home?” Jethro asked as he sent the elevator on its way.

“Sounds good.” McGee responded, straightening up and leading the way to his car.

When he arrived at home, he saw Tony at the table with a beer. Instead of prying, he dropped a hand on Tony's shoulder as he passed behind him, then grabbed a soda from the fridge and slipped back behind him again. “Your end tables could use some sanding.” He said, as he left the room. If Tony wanted to be alone, that was just a statement letting him know where he’d be. If he wanted to be with Jethro, it was almost an invitation. Regardless, it was true.

An hour and a half later, Tony slowly came down the stairs. He sat on the third step with a new beer in hand, nearly empty already. Jethro kept working wordlessly, but watched Tony closely. Soon, he noticed Tony staring into the neck of his empty bottle. He looked back over his shoulder at the bottle of bourbon on the shelf. “Heads up.” He said, as he tossed his sanding block to Tony.

Tony caught the block with ease, even if he didn't look up right away. “Work on that.” Jethro indicated the rough surface of the end table he’d finished this week. Tony instinctively stood and started running the block along the wood haphazardly. “No,” Jethro stood behind Tony and wrapped his weathered hand around the smooth skin of Tony’s. “ _With_ the grain.” He pushed Tony's hand a few times, giving him a little more instruction, then backed up. Tony continued sanding without complaint, and Jethro glanced around for something for the bourbon.

 _This’ll do_ , he thought, as he unscrewed one of the mason jars from its lid that was permanently affixed to the underside of a shelf. He dumped out the screws and replaced them with several shots worth of the brown liquid. He set it on the workbench and cleared his throat. “I feel like watching a movie. Casablanca.” He passed Tony the bourbon and didn't wait for a response. “Your call. Head upstairs, and I’ll clean up down here.”

Tony took the drink and looked into it, obviously thinking. Slowly he looked up, snapping out of the obedient role he hadn't even realized he’d dropped into. “Casablanca?” He tried for a smirk, but it was half-hearted.

“One of your favorites, right?”

Tony nodded. “Why?”

Jethro knew he wasn't asking about his movie choice. “I remember what you told me, about why you liked being with Tim. I can help some, just for tonight. Like I said, your call. No hard feelings if that’s not ok.” He turned his back and collected the tools and pieces of wood as Tony ascended the stairs. When everything was swept and organized, he shook himself and pushed down his nerves at taking charge like this, then turned off the light and went to the living room.

The menu of the DVD was playing, and Tony was sitting on the couch still nursing the bourbon, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Jethro sat next to him and patted his knee. Tony looked shocked, but Jethro raised an eyebrow and nodded. He wasn't going to let Tony know that Tim had given him a few (nonsexual) tips on their ride home. He handed Tony a pillow as he slid off the couch and onto the floor with a sigh. He adjusted until he was comfortable, sitting on the pillow with his head resting on Jethro's thigh. As the movie started, Jethro gently rested his hand on Tony's head. He alternated between petting Tony’s slightly shaggy hair, and feeding him pieces of popcorn.

By the end of the movie, Tony had finished the bourbon and slipped deeper into the safe space he’d missed. All he was conscious of was the hand in his hair and feeding him. “Come on, shower, then bed,” a deep voice rumbled, and Tony immediately stood and headed for the stairs. He stood in his bedroom, door ajar, staring at his bed as Jethro came upstairs too.

 _Crap._ Jethro had expected a movie would get Tony zoned, but not helpless like this. He stepped into the master bedroom and just followed his instincts. He slid his hands under Tony’s shirts and pushed them over his head. He pushed the pants down, unsurprised that there was no underwear. “Get in the shower, Tony.” He instructed, and watched as  the water pummelled the tired muscles of the younger man. But he wasn't washing. _Damnit._ Jethro stripped to his underwear and stepped behind Tony. He grabbed the shampoo and began massaging Tony’s head, then turned his back to the spray and rinsed his hair.

As Tony's head tipped back forward, Jethro felt hands on his waist, fingers resting on the waistband of his soaked briefs. “Tony, just get cleaned up.” He grabbed Tonys hands and put them on his own chest, grateful he had the forethought to keep himself partly covered.

“Do whatever you want. Please. I can tell you want...”

Tony's hand dropped almost to the bulge of Jethro's groin, but stopped short when Jethro gave a curt, “no.”

Tony nodded and turned away. Jethro adjusted himself with a grunt and continued cleaning Tony, then shut off the water and pulled him out. He dried him, had him step into some sleep pants, and tucked him into bed. As he went to leave, he heard Tony whisper.

“She was my friend.”

He stepped back into the room and sat next to Tony's curled back, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“She trusted me.” Tony started shaking, but Jethro didn't move. “I don't even know how to say it.”

“Start at the beginning.” Jethro offered. Tony sat up then, leaning against the center of the headboard, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his shins.

“I was always an accessory for my parents. They loved each other, they loved their wealth and position, and they were expected to have an heir. So I got paraded in front of the rich and famous in little sailor outfits, then dropped with the cooks or nannies or whoever would deal with me. Mom got sick, and died when I was 8. Dad went from being a general rich dick to…”

Tony closed his eyes, and Jethro shifted to sit next to him instead of facing him. “He drank. A lot. He couldn't deal, and then he got in with some really nasty people. Sadists. At first, they ignored me, and Dad just kept me out of his sight. But then they started doing things. Dad just made sure they didn't leave marks, so nobody would figure it out at school or anything.”

Jethro wrapped an arm around his shoulder, but he wasn't done. “They didn't do sexual stuff to me until I was older, but they liked...pain. Eventually, if they weren't hurting me, they made me watch. They'd buy cheap slaves and hurt them until…”

“Until they were dead?” Jethro finished, and Tony nodded.

He continued, “One day, when I was 12, they pulled Marguerite from the kitchen. She worked with her mom Bella sometimes, and when Master asks for you, you can't say no. She was 13. They wanted to watch her...be…”

Jethro understood now. “They made you have sex with her.” He said, sadly. But Tony shook his head.

“No. I _volunteered_. They were gonna hurt her just to hurt her, and I knew she had never had sex. I told them I _wanted_ to. I took her virginity, I raped her, and then two months later I found out she was pregnant.”

 _Fuck._ Jethro thought. He wasn't expecting that.

“I freaked out. I told our handyman. He helped her escape since she hadn't been chipped yet, then confronted my father. Even punched him. So my father sent him away to be put down. I don't even know her family's last name, and my father buried the records, or I would have found her by now. If she didn't kill herself. If she didn't kill…”

Jethro took a breath. “How old?”

“He or she would be about 25 now.” Tony let his head drop onto Jethro's shoulder. “My dad sobered up after that. Sent me off to military school, got rid of the bastards, and got himself back to being a regular asshole. But I never found her. I don't even know if I have a kid out there somewhere, or if she gave him or her up, or didn't make it through the pregnancy, or anything. I never told anyone.”

Jethro wrapped his arms around Tony and let him curl up against him. “Don't go, not yet, please.” He whispered.

“I said _tonight_. Meant it.” Jethro pulled the covers over them and brought his hand back to Tony's hair.  



	45. Monday+4 0800

Tony rolled over and squeezed his contoured pillow, rubbing his face into the soft flannel of the pillowcase as he stretched. Last night's dream was still fresh in his mind, and he could almost _smell_ the sawdust in the air. All he was certain of was the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, given the intense pressure behind his eyes, but his dream had been incredibly vivid. As he rolled out of bed, he noticed he had been curled on the opposite side of the bed as normal, and had slept with his back to the door, which was definitely out of character. And then he saw the dip in the other pillow. He inhaled deeply and _definitely_ smelled sawdust. When he went into the bathroom, he saw two towels hanging on the hooks behind the door.

 _It had to have been a dream_ . He thought. Jethro wouldn't do that. He wouldn't _know_ to do that. It was just his own projecting, he’d imagined Jethro in place of Tim, since he’d refused pretty much that exact treatment just a few hours before he’d gotten home. _It had to be._

Jethro heard the shower running in the adjacent room as he sipped his coffee. He sat at the desk and looked through the photos again, trying to remember every detail of every day the photos were taken. He smiled at the memories, for the first time in over 15 years, but he felt guilt rising in his gut as he looked into his wife’s beautiful eyes. He’d never felt guilty over this before. Every other lover he’d taken had been either casual or strategic, but now he was starting to have genuine feelings. He’d tried to dismiss it as a reaction to finally being treated like a real person again, even if he'd made some real dumbass moves at first, but once that shock had worn off, there was still something there. Sleeping in his bed, stroking his hair and back, feeling his arm wrapped around his waist, none of that helped either. This wasn't just a sexual attraction, or about manipulating him and playing with the power dynamics. _That_ wouldn't make him feel guilty.

But regardless of how he felt, Tony wouldn't want him anyway, given his status, so it wasn't worth even thinking about. He could be a friend, and he’d try to be that, but he needed to get his brain out of this downward spiral of falling for his _owner_. He kissed two fingertips and laid them on the photo of him and Shannon in the hospital with Kelly, then shut the book. He wanted to get some breakfast going before Tony was done.

“Mornin’, sleep well?” Jethro sipped his second cup of coffee as Tony skipped down the stairs.

“Yeah, weird dreams, though.” He watched for a reaction from Jethro, and, seeing none, smiled in relief. “You made breakfast?” He sniffed the air and smelled bacon, eggs, peppers, and onions. The oven was on, but nothing was on the stove.

“Scrambled some eggs, threw some stuff in there and put it in the oven. Should turn out ok.”

“You can make frittata? I'm pretty sure you lied when you said you couldn't cook,” Tony said with a grin, and reached for the handle of the oven.

“Hey.” Jethro said, sharply, “If you open it, it'll never cook.”

Tony rolled his eyes and held up his hands in surrender, “jeesh, fine! Want pancakes with it?” Jethro nodded and Tony got to work. No mixes there, he had the perfect recipe in his head already. “So, how 'bout you? Sleep ok? I'm sure the case was a doozy for you…” He tried to sound nonchalant, but was glad he was facing the counter.

Jethro sat his cup down on the table. “DiNozzo, do you _remember_ last night?”

Tony shook his head, “I remember drinking a few beers before you got home...then two more...then you gave me some of that rotgut bourbon ...then I... went to bed?” _Please say I went to bed...please…_

“Got the first part right” Jethro responded.

 _Shit._ Tony put the butter down and took a breath. “Not a dream, then?”

“How long since you've looked for her?” Jethro wasn't going to beat around the bush, and he wasn't going to handle Tony with kid gloves either. Broken and hurting was one thing, but today was a different story.

“Couple years. When I got the team and my security clearance went up a bit. But my dad is good at hiding stuff. I don't think I'll ever figure it out, honestly.” Tony was surprised at how even his breathing and heart rate were.

“Ever ask McGee for help? Or Abby? They can find anything.”

Tony shook his head as he preheated the pan. “Nobody knows, and I'd prefer to keep it that way. Not sure they'll take orders from a rapist.”

Jethro stood and firmly *thwacked* the back of Tony's head. “You said to tell you if you're being stupid.”

Tony spun around, whisk in hand, droplets of pancake batter dripping onto the floor. “Hey!”

“Hey nothin. I'll ask if you won't. And if I have to, I can distract Abby with _this_.” He held up his newest tag. “Let her think that's why I'm asking. You should know if you've got a kid, Tony.”

Tony sighed. “Fine, but leave me out of it until you find something.” He turned back to the griddle and started pouring the pancakes. “Thanks.”

Jethro sat back down and nodded as he picked his mug back off the table. “Oh, Vance called this morning. You’ve got a day off, I'm on babysitting duty. I called McGee, he’s bringing everyone over for dinner if you're up to it.”

Tony nodded. “Everyone?”

“Mostly. McGee also said you'd be getting a call from someone named Craig about his replacement while he’s on loan to the FBI.”

“Shit.” Tony dropped the spatula on the counter and rubbed his temples. “ _Not_ the logistics I need right now.”

“What?” Jethro was confused.

“Deputy Director Craig is in charge of the slave training program. He oversees them for the 5 years they are with us before their freedom. Which means we’re not getting a transfer, we're getting a slave.”

“And that's a problem?” Jethro got defensive. “Is there something _wrong_ with having another slave on your team for a few weeks?”

Tony rolled his eyes, flipped the pancakes and turned around. “A) As team lead, _I'm_ gonna be responsible for them. Which means adding just a _tad_ more tension here. And B), to be honest, most of these agents are… _difficult_ to train. It's not a lack of ability, it just tends to take forever to get them past their upbringing. They're so scared of screwing up, and unfortunately some bosses are a bit more into corporal punishment, which just exacerbates the issue. Usually, once the five years is up, they're great. But if we have some newbie? Putting them on the MCRT is a huge mistake.”

Jethro could see the logic. “I'll deal with them, then. Technically, I'm still riding a desk, and  maybe I could teach 'em a thing or two.”

Tony slid the pancakes onto a plate and poured more onto the pan. “We can try it. But I reserve the right to change my mind.”

“Deal.”

*****

After dinner, Jethro sat in the chair in the corner of the living room with Ducky and watched Tony dancing with Abby provocatively to some pop club song he’d never heard of. “He misses it.”

Ducky looked at him, “who misses what?”

“DiNozzo. He feels guilty leaving me here, so he doesn't go out and have fun. Something about clubbing in leather pants.” Jethro shrugged and took another sip of his tea.

“Perhaps. But I'm not entirely certain he regrets the necessity.” Jethro’s brow knit in confusion, and Ducky continued. “He often finds it difficult to be himself. I've noticed he doesn't hide from you, and I suspect that is a trend in your home, as well?”

“ _His_ home.” Jethro corrected, “but I suppose.”

“‘Tis your home as well. Just as my home is Celia's. But I digress. While the circumstances of this friendship are unfortunate, I do believe the end result has been mutually beneficial.”

Jethro smiled, “well, I'm not chained anymore, so yeah, definitely an improvement.”

Ducky chuckled. “Jethro, you really need to look at this from another perspective. I like you, I really do, and I'm fairly certain we all do. You've got your father back in your life, and Anthony would do anything to make you feel at home and respected. While I admit I shall never truly understand the resentment you feel at this shoddy sentencing, as I myself have never been enslaved, I'm rather certain you've hit quite a lottery.” Ducky's eyes didn't leave Jethro’s face, until he noted a shift and Jethro dropped his gaze, from Tony, to the cup in his lap. Ducky looked at Tony and smiled. “ _Oh_...well…”

“Well, what, Duck?” Jethro asked, when Ducky didn't continue.

Ducky smirked and leaned toward Jethro conspiratorially. “Although it made me realize I fairly exclusively enjoy the company of women, I have dabbled on the other side of things experimentally. Anthony _is_ an attractive young man, and I wouldn't be surprised if he were harboring some feelings for you. He seems to be showing off quite a bit right now. I've monitored his alcohol intake tonight, and he _cannot_ blame this behavior on intoxication.”

Tony was certainly acting the fool, and Jethro had noticed an awful lot of ass shaking and hip waving. He just figured it was something normal for him and Abby. He shrugged. “Not gonna happen, Duck.” He took his attention off Tony and watched McGee and Kate for a while. Kate seemed to notice immediately that he was watching and met his gaze. She smiled and raised her chin just a bit, before turning back to McGee.

“Never say never, my boy.” Ducky said, “And with that, I must bid you adieu. Us elderly folks must maintain some semblance of a sleep schedule if we are to be fully functional in the morning.”

Jethro stood with him and laughed, “elderly my ass. I'll see ya tomorrow, Duck.”

As Ducky said his goodnights, Jethro made his way over to Kate. He was a lot better at reading her than Tony, mainly because she thought they were on fairly equal footing, and wasn't trying to mask whatever she was feeling.

“Hey, Gibbs, how are you doing?” She asked, a gentle smile on her lips.

“Fine. You?” He hated small talk, but it was fairly expected at dinner parties.

“I'm doing alright. Hey, you did an awesome job with those kids. Both of them, really. I'm really glad Tony recruited you.” She met his eyes and blushed. She’d had a few drinks herself, and Jethro was seeing a much more 'relaxed’ Agent Todd. Apparently the inner Caitlin Todd found him attractive. Not some owner’s daughter looking for a pawn, not some slave girl begging for positive attention, but a strong and proud woman, actually flirting with him. He’d take what he could get.

“Eh, just good with 'em, I guess. You didn't do too bad with the parents either. They were lucky to have someone there with them until we got Julia back to them.” He raised his cup in the air with a crooked smile and she tapped her glass to it gently. She blushed again. He hadn't completely lost his touch.

“So, Tony tells me you made this entertainment center?” She ran her long fingers over the edge of the wood he’d finished staining just a week and a half ago.

“Yup.”

She huffed in amusement. “Brilliant conversationalist, aren't you?”

He smiled again before responding, “nope.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, leave all the work for me. _Men_. Anyway, he said you're making end tables to match? Why?”

One word answer wouldn't work here. He shrugged. “need to keep my hands busy. Wanna see them?”

“I can see your hands just fine, Agent Gibbs,” she retorted with a smarmy grin.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, “the end tables.”

“Sure. Lead the way!” 

Jethro pretended not to notice the suspicious glare he received from Tony as he held the basement door open for Kate and shut it behind them. It's not like he’d be throwing her against the wall and having his way with her right then and there.

Maybe another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just roll with me on this Kate thing! 
> 
> I haven't edited this much, so pardon typos, I just wanted to keep it moving!


	46. Tuesday+4 0840

Tony had missed his alarm, so he and Gibbs had gotten into the bullpen just 20 minutes before starting time. As Gibbs settled into his desk, Tony laid on his back on the floor and started doing sit-ups.

“What are you doing?” He asked

Tony paused, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn't get the chance at home. Gotta work on my girlish figure.” He ignored Jethro’s glare and he resumed counting as Kate came off the elevator. “13...15...17...19…”

Kate rounded the corner, “did you lose something down there DiNozzo?”

“99...100…” He hopped back to his feet rather gracefully,”Just doing my morning exercise.”

Kate rolled her eyes as she sat behind her desk and put away her gun and go bag. “ _ Right _ . So how old's this one?”

Tony pouted dramatically, “Why does it always have to be about a woman Kate?”

She smiled, “Uh...cause we're talking about  _ you _ .”   


McGee came around the corner just then and held out something wrapped in foil. “Got your favorite here. Bacon, sausage, cheese, breakfast burrito.”

Tony sniffed the air, then shook his head. “I'll pass. Too much fat.”   


McGee huffed and looked at Kate, “Must be  _ really _ young.”

Gibbs couldn't help it. He chimed in, winking at Kate, “Oh, she is.”

Tony gave him a betrayed glare, “I don't think they need to know about this.”

He just smiled at Tony this time. They both knew it was bullshit, but he’d started it. “5' 10", blonde hair, long legs, and gianormous headlights.”

Tony looked at him, “The last part was really necessary?”

Gibbs saw the horrified look coming at him from Kate, then looked at Tony innocently, “That's what  _ you _ called them.”

Tony groaned and dropped his head to his desk as McGee tried to hide his laughter. Kate’s eye roll was so exaggerated, Gibbs practically heard it.

“DiNozzo.” A strange voice called from the rail above them, and they all looked up to see a short, wiry man standing next to director Vance.

“Yes sir?” Tony stood and headed up the stairs when Vance motioned for him to follow them into his office.

When they were out of earshot, Kate huffed and shook her head.

“What?” McGee asked.

“If Deputy director Craig is here, it means…”

McGee nodded. “Yeah, I already talked to him. I'm outta here this afternoon headed to Quantico, he’s got someone lined up to be my replacement. Met him yesterday. Good guy, quiet, a little soft around the edges, but he knows his way around computers.”

Kate slumped in her chair. “I just think this is baloney. I mean, I can see the benefit to having slaves around, but more like Cynthia. She’s a secretary and I'm guessing Vance monitors her closely. But a field agent? Why do we trust  _ slaves _ with that? It's too risky,”

Gibbs's eyes shot up and he practically snarled at her. “Why is it  _ risky _ , Agent Todd?”

She seemed surprised at his response, but tried to explain. “Come on, Gibbs, do you really think we should be trusting this kind of sensitive information to people who've spent their entire lives taking orders and just being obedient to anyone they encounter? How would you know they aren't leaking information just because someone asked forcefully? Don't get me wrong, I feel for them, I do, but they should be in jobs where they can't be a danger to anyone, or wouldn't be helping someone escape or something. And that doesn't even count the criminals. I still don't trust Cynthia. She killed her husband, and now she’s secretary to the director of a federal agency, and living in his home? I just hope he watches his back.”

Before Gibbs could throw himself at her throat for her statements, Tony was standing between them with the Director. “Why should I be watching my back, Agent Todd?” Vance asked.

“Nothing, sir,” Kate said, dropping her focus to her computer.

“Gibbs.” Vance stood in front of his desk.

Jethro stood, “Yes sir.”

“DiNozzo here feels that you might be best suited to partner with your new probationary agent. Please come with us so we can discuss the particulars. It’s a special situation.”

Jethro nodded and followed his bosses as Kate and McGee watched, shocked. “But, I've got seniority!” Kate exclaimed. “He's still a probie too, why would they put two probies together? Why wouldn't they assign the new guy to DiNozzo? I could partner with Gibbs.”

McGee huffed. “Given the attitude you just showed, why would you trust a  _ slave _ to watch Tony’s six? Just to get into Gibbs's pants?”

Kate gawked at him. “What?! I never!”

“Probably.” McGee said under his breath, returning to his screen.

Vance held the door for Tony and Gibbs, then shut it behind them. “I recognize this is a difficult situation, but we don't have anyone to spare for your team. Agent Dorneget is damn good at computers, and he’d be an asset. He’s been with us almost 4 years now, so he’s got a decent amount of training under his belt, but he hasn't been field certified yet. You know that's a lengthy process in the program.”

Tony nodded, and Gibbs spoke up. “I already told DiNozzo I'd hold the kid’s hand, what else do I need to know?” Just then, the door opened, and the wiry blonde man from earlier--DD Craig, Jethro assumed--entered, followed by a tall, round faced young man wearing a black collar with NCIS embroidered in white block letters.

“ _ You _ don't need to know anything. You need to do whatever DiNozzo tells you, and anything else is up to him.” Vance sighed.

“Jerome Craig, deputy director. Agent Gibbs.” He gestured between the two as a way of introduction.

“I'm aware of who you are. Now, DiNozzo, logistics. Dorneget will be transferred to your team, which makes him your responsibility. He has housing and a meal allowance at the barracks, or you can choose to provide alternate accommodations, you just have to alert the barracks should he be arriving after curfew.” Jethro felt himself bristling at the man, talking about this kid as it he weren't there. “He was issued a cell phone, here's the number and the account information,”

“Why does he need that?” Jethro asked, trying to keep the venom to a minimum. This guy knew who, and what, he was, and he definitely felt like most other overseers he'd met, just in a fancy suit.

“To monitor the  _ slave’s _ activities, as is his duty. He has access to  _ yours _ , I assume.” the man glared at him, then continued. “I've programmed his chip to your phone, and here's a summary of his skills and his IDP. I'm not certain partnering him with another slave is the best idea, Agent DiNozzo. Especially one who has been here for a shorter period of time than he has.”

Tony grabbed the folder of information from Craig and raised his eyebrows. “Then it's a good thing you're not running my team. Now, if you'll give me a minute, I'd like to brief my agents.”

Vance put his hand on the deputy director's shoulder and angled his head toward the door. The pair left without another word, and Tony motioned to the young agent to have a seat. “So, Agent Dorneget. Where do you want to stay for the next few weeks while you're assigned to me?”

“Sir?” He kept his eyes down and Jethro could tell he was nervous.

Jethro met Tony's eyes, and Tony waved his hand, letting Jethro take over. “Listen, whatever supervisors you've had before, doesn't matter. DiNozzo won't treat you like crap. Well, any more than any other probie. It's a pain in the ass to have two of us learning the ropes here, but it is what it is. So, do you want to stick to where you've been? Or stay with us?”

Dorneget flushed and stuttered a little, “whatever works better for you…”

Tony sighed, “look. I've got 3 bedrooms. One is mine, one is his, the other is a guest room and office. You're welcome to stay there if you want,  _ or _ , if you have your own things at the barracks and want to stay there, it's no big deal. Like Jethro said, you're just a probie to me. I might super glue your pants to your chair, or make you go dumpster diving, but your legal status doesn't mean a thing to me. And if you fuck up, I'll give you a good verbal dressing down, but that's it, just like any other agent, and you'll learn from it and be a better agent for it, and we’ll all move on. Everyone fucks up.”

Dorneget nodded. “Can we play it by ear? I have friends back there, but it’d be nice to stay somewhere quiet for once.”

Tony nodded, “sounds good. Now, I believe Agent McGee will be working with you until this afternoon, then after that you'll be partnered with Agent Gibbs. Agent Todd will be acting SFA until McGee's return. So let's get back there.”

Tony stood and held open the door as the two men walked out. He sighed at how timid this guy was. He hadn't expected much more than that, and he hoped he’d come out of his shell quickly, but  _ oy vey. _

As the day progressed, Jethro watched Agent Dorneget with McGee. By the time 3pm rolled around, he had noticed more than once that something was going on between them. Too much blushing, lingering hands, not-too-innocent smirks from McGee, and fluttering eyelids and nervous hands from Dorneget.  _ Great. _ Tony was gonna love this.

“Hey, Ned, I'm headed for coffee, have you checked out the break room?” He heard McGee ask. Dorneget shook his head and followed as McGee strode out of the bullpen. Nobody else seemed to notice, and less than a minute later, Jethro stood to follow.

“Coffee?” He asked Tony and Kate. DiNozzo squinted at him...he was aimed for the hall, not the elevator, and he  _ hates _ the break room coffee. But he let it go and shook his head. “Todd?”

Kate was a little confused at his use of her last name again, especially after the kiss they'd shared in the basement the night before, but she figured he was just trying to cover for it. Tony wouldn't like it if they were headed toward something. “No, thanks,”

Jethro strode intently toward the break room, and as he suspected, he found McGee speaking quietly to Dorneget. He observed for a few seconds, getting a read on the interaction before intervening. The younger agent, though not much younger than Tim, was leaning his back against the wall, his skin flushed red, nervous laughter coming from him as McGee whispered to him. McGee had one hand on the wall beside Dorneget's shoulder, and was leaning into him, his other hand gently but confidently touching his target across his arm, shoulder, and chest.

When he raised the hand to run his finger along the black collar at his throat, and Dorneget's breath hitched, Jethro stepped into the hallway. “Agent Dorneget.” The young man flushed even more, if that was possible, and snapped his head to look in Jethro's direction. “Coffee, black, go.” He waved a hand in the direction of the break room, and he scurried away.

“Making a slave fetch you coffee? How demeaning.” McGee said, as he straightened himself and squared his shoulders.

“He's a probie, he'll deal. But cornering him and coming on to him at work? Really?” Jethro took a step toward McGee, almost invading his personal space. “He can't consent, you know that, and Tony will have your ass.”

McGee smirked, “other way around,  _ probie _ .” Eventually, he broke the tension and sighed, “fine, I wasn't gonna bed the kid, he's just...tempting. And he’s looking for something, some _ one _ to guide him. It's not uncommon in born slaves who find themselves heading toward freedom...the change is intimidating. And they bend beautifully when given the right incentive.” He smiled slightly and thought about the incentives he could provide.

Jethro huffed. “And Kate thinks  _ Tony _ is insatiable.”

McGee smirked, “Kate doesn't know nearly as much as she thinks she does.” He stepped closer, close enough to make Jethro uneasy, but he held his ground, “I take it your time in the basement wasn't wasted.”

Jethro blinked slowly and looked into Tim’s eyes. “No, it wasn't. Not as 'productive’ as _she_ would have liked, though.”

McGee paused for a second, again feeling the tension between them rise, and then he shook his head with a smile, putting a hand on Jethro's shoulder. “Ok papa bear, I'll leave the kid alone. You keep an eye on Kate. I still haven't figured her out.” He turned and looked over Jethro's shoulder as Dorneget returned balancing three cups of coffee. “Good conservative girl, my ass,” he whispered, then louder, “hey Dorney, thanks.” He rushed to grab a cup from the young man and Gibbs took his as well.

“Thanks probie. Let’s get back to work.” Gibbs clapped him on the back and let McGee lead the way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I changed Abby for Gibbs in the quoted section below, and Dorneget is probably OOC, but he isn't on enough episodes for me to capture him lol, so I'm making him who I want :)
> 
> Episode 2.19  
> Tony: (doing sit ups) 13...15...17...19...  
> Kate: Did you lose something down there, DiNozzo?  
> Tony: 99...100... Just doing my morning exercise.  
> Kate: Right. So how old's this one?  
> Tony: Why does it always have to be about a woman Kate?  
> Kate: Uh...cause we're talking about you.  
> McGee: Got your favorite here. Bacon, sausage, cheese, breakfast burrito.  
> Tony: (Sniffs). I'll pass. Too much fat.  
> McGee: Must be really young.  
> Abby: Oh, she is.  
> Tony: I don't think they need to know about this Abs.  
> Abby: She's um....5' 10", blonde hair, long legs, and gianormous headlights.  
> Tony: (looks at her) The last part was really necessary?  
> Abby: That's what you called them.


	47. Tuesday+4 1700

“Where to?” Tony looked at Dorneget in the rear view mirror.

He shrugged, “uh...I guess I'd like to see your place?” Tony nodded and headed home.

When they arrived home, Tony dropped his gear and headed to his room. Jethro had agreed to talk with Dorneget, so he’d stay out of the way. He didn't feel like chatting anyway.  
  
“So, basically, we just wing it when it comes to what needs doing around here. Seems to be if one of us cooks, the other cleans up. Just works that way. There's no chores or assigned anything, we're not slaves here.” Jethro started, as he hung up his coat. Dorneget did the same and followed him into the kitchen. “We tend to eat together, but not always. Chip in for groceries while you’re here. Room’s upstairs.” Jethro headed for the stairs, conscious of the timid man behind him. He opened the office door. “Tony’s desk is there, if you’re really ambitious he’s got some cold cases in that box, but the rest is his personal stuff. The bed is on this side. Extra sheets are in this closet, and Tony said he’d have some of your clothes brought over if you want, or just enough for tomorrow.” Dorneget nodded, and Jethro sighed. He sat on the bed and patted the comforter. “Talk to me, kid. I’ve been around long enough, I’ve heard it all.”  
  
Dorneget sat down and shrugged. “I’m not a kid.”  
  
Jethro rolled his eyes, “I got 20 years on you, easy, so yes, you’re a kid. But besides that…”  
  
“I’m just used to more…structure.”  
  
“Makin’ you nervous?” Jethro asked, and he nodded. “That why you let McGee crowd you like that?”  
  
His ears burned immediately, and his eyes went wide, “What?”  
  
Jethro smiled, “you could’ve told him to bug off, you know.”  
  
“Maybe. I dunno, there’s more to it, and he’s very…persuasive…” Dorneget seemed to be speaking a little more easily.  
  
“More to it?”  
  
He cleared his throat and fiddled with his hands, “yeah. I mean, he’s a bit intense, and some of the stuff he said was way more than I'd want…” He laughed nervously, “I’ve just never…you know…”  
  
“You’re a virgin?” Jethro was a little shocked. This guy wasn’t a teenager, and he’d obviously had at least some college… “Not even with a guy?” He knew how the whole segregation of sexes worked, obviously.  
  
Ned snorted, “well, don’t really want a girl, since I’m gay, so yeah, virgin all around. I’d rather NOT be a virgin when I finally get my freedom, and Tim is the only guy to give me the time of day in a long time. I figured maybe he’d…y’know, help out. He was, um...agreeing...when you saw us.”  
  
Jethro nodded. “Of course he’d oblige if you wanted. But don’t settle for someone just because THEY give YOU the time of day. Be with someone because you WANT them. That’s the difference between Free and Slave, I guess. We settle for crumbs because we think we can’t get better, but guess what? You’re gonna get better, kid. If ya like McGee, go for it, but don’t settle. Now, bathroom is there, use my soaps if you want, extra razors in the cabinet, and food in about an hour.” He patted Dorneget’s knee and left him alone with his thoughts, not noticing the younger man blushing as he admired his retreating form.   
  
“Gibbsgibbsgibbsgibbs!”   
  
Jethro pulled the phone away from his ear to avoid hearing loss. “Calm down, Abby.”  
  
“Sorry, Gibbs, you never call, it’s just exciting! Ooohhh, do you have FaceTime?”  
  
“Face what?”  
  
“Never mind, what’s up, El Magnifico?”  
  
Jethro sighed. “Need a favor. Discreet, please.”  
  
“Discreet is my middle name! OK, maybe not, but I can TOTALLY keep a secret. Is it super sneaky black ops stuff? That’s totally where you’ve been the last 15 years, I just KNOW it.”  
  
Jethro shook his head. He’d get back to that later. “No black ops, I just was hoping you could help me find someone. A female slave. I just found out she was in NY at Tony’s estate about 25 years ago. I was hoping to check in on her.”  
  
“ooooh, you’re so SWEET! What’s her name?”  
  
Jethro exhaled in relief. “Bella. Had a daughter, Marguerite, she’d be about 39 now. Don’t know their last name. Tony looked into it for me, but his dad wiped his records, I figured you might get further.”  
  
“Oh, I am the QUEEN of finding something where others come up empty! Never fear! I’ll find them! Anything else I can do you for?”  
  
“Thanks Abs.” He clicked his phone shut. Hopefully she’d find something, for better or worse. He was glad she hadn't asked for an explanation. Yet.

Dinner was quiet and fairly uncomfortable, and afterwards Jethro headed directly for the basement. About half an hour later, the stairs creaked and he looked up and saw Dorneget coming down in flannel pants and a sweatshirt. He continued measuring for the second end table until he saw the young man fidgeting. He sat his tools down, and brought out the bourbon. He poured some into the mason jar he’d just washed and handed it over.

“Uh...I don't really…” Jethro tipped it slightly toward him. “Ok, thanks.” He took a sip and cringed and shook his head. “Holy crap.” But he took another.

Soon enough, Jethro could tell he was well past tipsy.  _ Oops.  _ More lightweight than his figure would imply.

“Agent Gibbs? Can I ask you something?” His words were slurred just a little. He wasn't drunk, but headed that way. Jethro nodded. “Have  _ you _ ever been with a guy?” Jethro sighed. He felt like a parent having 'the talk.’ The only part of parenting he always dreaded, and still regretted he never got to do.

“Yeah.” The look on his face was priceless. Shock and admiration and pure innocence.

“You kinda scare me.” Ned whispered.

Jethro’s lip curled into a grin, “I scare plenty of people.”

“It's kinda hot.”

_ Oh crap. _ What the hell. Jethro almost wanted to look for the hidden cameras. After getting sad eyes from Kate today when he wouldn't talk to her in the elevator, this was just a little much. “I'm flattered, but I'm old enough to be your father.”

“Well, my dad’s kind of a dick, so no biggie.”

“I'm cutting you off.” Jethro reached for the glass, but Ned downed the last of it, then blushed and handed it back. “Kid, you're on our team for several weeks at least. This isn't a good idea. Maybe call me in a year when  _ you've _ got the advantage, and we'll talk.”  _ Ugh. Talking _ . Jethro hated talking. He’d been doing far more of it than he was used to lately.

Dorneget chewed his bottom lip and nodded. Jethro checked the time and started cleaning up. “Getting late, I'm headed to bed.” Without a word, Dorneget turned and headed up the stairs. When Gibbs got to his bedroom, he saw the light to the guest room flip off, and he got ready for bed.

Jethro's dreams turned very pleasurable that night. He was kissing soft lips, hand pulling at curly hair, caressing baby soft skin... _ shit _ . He opened his eyes to find Dorneget in his bed. He controlled his reaction, but stopped every movement they'd been making with one word. “No.” His newfound bedmate swallowed hard and started shaking. Jethro sat up and grabbed him by the wrists when he started to try and touch him again, and immediately Dorneget calmed down.  _ Tim would've loved this. _ “Come on kid, you don't want this.”

Jethro groaned inside when he saw tears building in Dorneget’s eyes. “I do, sir. You said not to settle, I’m not. You think we don’t talk about the MCRT? About the close rate Agent DiNozzo has? About the hot Marine he brought in who isn’t scared of anything? I’ve seen you around a couple of times. Believe me, I’m not settling, sir. Especially when I found out…” He swallowed hard and Jethro wasn't sure if he meant his legal status, or the fact that he’d been with men.   
  
“Don’t call me sir.”   
  
“OK si—Gibbs.”    
  
Jethro sighed. This whole thing would be a lot easier if his cock hadn’t taken notice when he was asleep and dreaming of busty redheads. Waking to soft, young, innocent lips certainly didn’t deflate anything, at least not yet. “We’re not having sex. I won’t be your first. Anyone worth their salt won’t mind that you’re a virgin if they deserve you.”   
  
Dorneget nodded, then looked back at him questioningly, “Would you…kiss me, at least? I mean, I kinda…tried, but you were asleep, and I’ve never had a real kiss like that, just little things.”   
  
He was so eager, almost begging, and because he was still half asleep, Jethro felt his wall crumbling. He took the young face in his hands and gently, gentler than he had in probably 20 years, kissed him. Long and slow, his lips exploring, until he pressed his tongue along the plump bottom lip, and his partner opened to permit him entry. Jethro had forgotten what it was like to kiss like this. Kissing just for kissing’s sake. Mapping his mouth with his tongue, with no other goal in mind. That is, until Dorneget pulled back panting and shaking. “You ok?” Jethro asked, and he nodded.   
  
“Just…um…need to stop before…” His face got even redder and Jethro noticed his hand was pressing hard against his groin. Jethro couldn’t help but smile with pride. He had almost cum just from kissing him.   
  
“Lie down. You can stay here tonight if you promise not to molest me.” He couldn’t be the kind of guy who kisses someone like that, then sends them off alone. Not someone like Ned, who was just looking for someone to pay attention to him and treat him with respect and a little bit of love. That was a stupid idea, he didn't want to lead the kid on. “But we’re back to normal in the morning, OK? You’re a good kid, but that’s all.” In response, he sank into the bed and curled his back into Jethro’s arms. It felt odd, that such a tall and sturdy, if soft, man felt so young and vulnerable, but Jethro pulled him close and kissed the back of his head, letting his arm drape over him, but touching only his arm and shoulder. He’d crossed too many lines already.    
  
He awoke to Tony’s shout and barging into his room. “Jethro, he’s gone—“ Tony stopped short at the sight of Jethro spooned behind Dorneget’s back, and he backed out quickly.   
  
“Well shit.” Jethro exhaled sharply as Ned realized what had happened and scrambled.   
  
“He’s gonna be pissed, I shouldn’t have drank anything…I shouldn’t have…” Jethro grabbed his shoulder and he stopped panicking immediately.   
  
“He’ll deal. You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, he’ll be pissed at  _ me _ for taking advantage.”    
  
Dorneget’s breath came hard and fast, “I’ll tell him it’s not your fault. I took advantage, it’s on me. You shouldn’t get in trouble”   
  
Jethro shook his head, “don’t worry, he’s not like that. Not like  _ this _ .” He turned toward his closet to get a shirt and Ned gasped at the scars on his back. When Jethro turned back around, pulling his undershirt down, he saw tears in the young man’s eyes. “You’ve got a good life, kid. Getting out is scary when it hasn’t been that bad to you, and it’s all you know, I hear that. But you’ve gotta grow a pair sometime. Get dressed, chin up, and head to the office like nothing is wrong, no matter how much it scares you. DiNozzo is a good guy, and if anything, he’ll rip me a new one later.” He brought a hand to Ned’s cheek and brought him in for a kiss to his forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”    
  
Jethro made sure he was the first one downstairs, and he poured himself some coffee like usual. Logically, he knew DiNozzo wasn’t going to do anything terrible to him, but the angry silence behind him as he approached and reached for the coffee was still unnerving. He shouldn’t have to explain himself, he tried to think, but it came out anyway. “I didn’t take advantage of him, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Tony didn’t respond, just dropped his mug in the sink and headed for the door as soon as he heard Dorneget on the stairs.   
  
The rest of the week went well, if Jethro ignored the curt silence from DiNozzo and the awkward, pleading glances from Kate. He’d let his downstairs brain get ahead of him that night and thought he knew what he was doing. Until she opened her mouth about slaves, and obviously wasn’t trusting Ned as far as she could throw him, and now she didn't understand why he was ignoring her.

Surprisingly, the only member of the team who  _ wasn't _ acting awkward around him was Dorneget. He'd chosen to stay at the barracks after the first night, and as he settled into a few cold cases, he relaxed considerably. He asked advice when necessary, he made good observations, and Jethro was fairly impressed. He'd set his sights on impressing DiNozzo, sometimes over eager, but usually correct, and Tony had obviously not held a grudge against  _ him _ for what he thought he saw.

After a few days, Tony had had enough and had to let Jethro know he knew something that something was off with him and Kate, though. He pulled Jethro into the crook of the stairs.   
  
“OK, what’s going on with you and Todd?” Jethro blinked a few times and raised an eyebrow. Tony exhaled in annoyance, “I don’t give two craps who you’re interested in, as long as it doesn’t affect work. Dorneget is fine, but THIS is affecting work. She’s distracted. Whatever you did,  _ fix it.” _   
  
Jethro squinted his eyes as Tony stormed off. Whatever HE did? HE didn’t do a damn thing. SHE’S the one who was being an ass. He walked back into the bullpen and grabbed his coat. “Getting coffee.” Thankfully, Kyle was working the front entrance. He’d long since given up on Jethro having an escort to the coffee shop next door.   
  
“Ten minutes!” He called after Jethro, and he waved a hand in response. Nine minutes later, he came back, skipped the slave line, and handed Kyle the hot chocolate balanced between his coffee and the giant caf-pow. “Thanks, man.” Jethro nodded and headed toward the elevator and down to the lab.   
  
“Oh, your timing is so perfect it’s FREAKY!” Abby exclaimed as she dropped the now-empty cup into the trash and grabbed the new one from Gibbs’s hands. “But there’s no case…”   
  
“Figured you might have something else for me?” He raised his eyebrows and she snapped her fingers and spun toward the computer.   
  
“Right! OK, so I found Bella! Her  _ daughter _ disappeared under hinky circumstances, and then  _ she _ was sold for cash from Senior’s estate right about 25 years ago. The records weren’t in the system, but her chip was replaced, from the old shoulder chips they used to use to the new ones now, and it was recorded about 10 years ago. Here’s her address! She’s down in South Carolina, though, so can’t exactly drive over today.” Abby looked at him like a puppy expecting a treat.   
  
“Good job, Abs.” He pulled her in by the shoulders and dropped a kiss on her temple. She grinned, but spun toward him as he started to leave. “But something else… How come you, like, disappeared off the face of the earth for 15 years? I totally can't find a trace, and I can get into a  _ lot _ of places. Black ops? Stealth stuff? You faked your own death or kidnapping or whatever, then get sneaky transferred to NCIS? Omigod, are you spying on us RIGHT NOW?”   


“Abby.” Jethro gave her a no-nonsense look and she closed her mouth.

It didn't last long, though, and as he started to leave again, she blurted out, “If you told me, you'd have to kill me?”

He lowered his eyebrows in warning and she slapped her hands over her mouth. He left the lab with the slip of paper in his hands and made a mental note to thank Vance for buying his records so deeply. He couldn't think of anyone else who'd have the kind of clearance that would take.   



	48. Friday+4 2130

Jethro sat on the sawhorse by his workbench looking at the paper Abby had given him. It was late, they’d been called in on a case that afternoon and got home just a little while ago, and would have to be back early the next morning. Dorneget had opted to come home with them, instead of wasting time for a detour to the barracks, and Jethro was seriously considering sleeping on the floor tonight, just so the kid didn’t get any ideas. And to avoid the temptation himself.

Upstairs, Dorneget heard the basement door shut as Jethro went to the basement, and Tony walking around downstairs. _Now or never,_  he thought. _Time to grow a pair._ He made his way down the stairs and stood in the living room, unsure of how to start.

“Need something Dorneget?” Tony called from the dining room. He was sitting at the table with earbuds from his phone now tossed over his shoulder, a pencil in hand and pages of partly used sheet music in front of him. He looked up as the younger man walked into the room.

“Yes...yes sir.” Ned stumbled over his words and stood in the doorway.

“Ok.” Tony gestured toward the chair next to him and Ned sat down.

“Um...I can't help but notice that…” he swallowed and took a deep breath.

Tony reached over and tapped a hand on his shoulder. “I'm not gonna bite. Speak your mind, I'm not your boss here.”

Ned nodded and continued. “Sir, you've been a little harsh on Agent Gibbs ever since…” he shrugged and blushed, “you know.”

Tony sat back in his seat, “Dorneget, he should have known better. Whatever happened--”

“Can I speak freely?” Ned blurted out. Tony nodded and held his tongue. “I've been a slave longer than him, and I've been at NCIS longer than him, and in a year I'll be Free and he won't, so really, if anyone took advantage, it's me.” He said, all in one breath. Then added, “Sir.”

Tony was a bit taken aback. He thought about arguing, but the kid had a point. Jethro was older, but Dorneget technically had more seniority at NCIS, and he was more secure and consistent in his slave status, as opposed to being thrown into it. He was impressed that Ned had actually thought to challenge him, too. So he responded. “So, that's your position? Regardless of my response?” He kept his face neutral as he looked at the nervous man seated next to him.

Dorneget swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes sir. Whatever punishment you deem necessary is mine, it shouldn't be forced on Agent Gibbs.” He held his chin up but his eyes down, and Tony saw his hands shaking.

Tony sighed and smiled slightly. “Dorney, I'm not going to punish anyone for what they do in private.” He brought a hand up and rubbed his face. He _had_ been a dick to Jethro. “But I'll give credit where it’s due, it took guts to tell me that.”

Dorneget flushed, “thank you sir.”

“God, stop calling me sir. Tony is fine when we’re home. DiNozzo works too if you need.”

“Thanks... DiNozzo.” He breathed a sigh of relief as he stood and returned to his room. DD Craig would never have tolerated that.

Jethro heard the piano bench creak across the floor above him, and he smiled a little. Tony hadn’t played in too long, it was starting to feel…wrong. But no sound carried through the ceiling. Not even the awkward plinking that indicated he was stressed or struggling. After ten minutes, the bench creaked again, and the footsteps came toward the basement door.  
  
And then, he knocked. Tony didn’t usually knock on this door. Then again, he hadn’t been back down here in a while. “It’s open,” Jethro called. He had the end tables next to each other, making sure they were even and level when Tony sat on the landing. Jethro grabbed the mason jar—he’d given up using it for screws at this point—but Tony shook his head and held up a beer.  
  
Jethro kept working, occasionally glancing back to Tony in case he needed some prodding, but for now he seemed content to just sit and watch Jethro work. After what seemed like forever, he spoke. “It’s not my business, so tell me to butt out, but…Dorneget is a bit young, don’t you think?”  
  
Jethro nodded. “That’s why I turned him down.”  
  
Tony squinted in his direction, obviously a little skeptical. Jethro sat the level down and turned toward him. “He’s a damn virgin. I caught McGee honing in, interrupted, and then told him not to settle just because someone was offering. So he moved his sights… _older_.”  
  
“OK, but you slept with him?”  
  
Jethro’s lips twitched with a hint of a smile, “same as I _slept_ with you. _Slept_ being the operative word.”

“He came to me tonight. Defended your honor. Said _he_ took advantage of _you_. Didn't sound like just sleeping, Jethro.”

Jethro snorted. “My honor?”

“My words, not his,” Tony said with amusement.

“Damn, I guess the kid did take my advice.” Tony looked puzzled, so Jethro continued. “I told him to grow a pair.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “ok, whatever happened, happened. But he’s still a young and impressionable slave, and...  
  
Jethro held up a hand, “hey!” He felt himself getting defensive, “Don’t forget, technically he’s got the advantage there. In a year, I’ll still be low man on that totem pole. And I was tired, and maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision, but…aw hell, he’s attractive, and I kissed him. Sue me for wanting a little damn affection. He's a damn good kisser for a virgin. And don't tell me you'd totally refuse a willing twenty-something crawling into your bed.” He turned back to his work and started doing everything just a little louder than necessary.  
  
Tony didn’t leave, didn’t admonish him, he just waited. Eventually, Jethro turned back around and Tony nodded at him. “Fair enough. And Kate? Because this is getting ridiculous, you know.”  
  
Jethro leaned back and sat on the unfinished end table behind him. “That was just plain dumb. I’ll talk to her. Tomorrow.”  
  
Tony nodded, but he didn’t leave. Jethro was about to toss him the sanding block, now that he was satisfied the tables were even, just as Tony cleared his throat. “We OK?”  
  
Jethro paused, then tossed the block anyway. “I’m good. You?”  
  
Tony caught the block, put his empty bottle on the stair and rested a hand on Jethro's shoulder. “I was a dick. My own issues.” He didn't want Jethro to smack him for apologizing. And he certainly didn't want to admit he’d been a bit of a green-eyed monster. He didn't have any right to be that.

The pair got the end tables ready for finishing before heading to bed. Jethro would talk to Tony about the address Abby had found the next day.

*****

“Todd. My ‘office’.” Jethro stood, and Tony nodded to Kate when she looked to him in confusion. Kate followed behind as Jethro headed for the elevator. When the doors closed, he hit the emergency stop button and Kate stumbled forward onto his chest. To say he was tempted to take this a whole different direction was an understatement. It’d been a very long time since a woman had flirted with him like that, and she _was_ attractive. Outside.

But he gently pushed her back. “Look. What I did the other night... I shouldn't have.”

Kate’s jaw dropped. “Is this DiNozzo's doing? Because we’re on the same team? No, he’s just jealous. Of me or you, I don't know, but he is.” She stepped back into Jethro's personal space and very gently placed her hands on his chest. “Gibbs, Jethro, if you didn't want to try this, you wouldn't have kissed me the way you did. Pushing me against the wall and kissing until we could barely breathe isn't just a fluke.”

Jethro was kicking himself. He _had_ wanted her. Then. He’d wanted to be desired, and she was there. She’d melted into his kiss, she’d responded to his advances, he’d thought about doing more, but stopped after he thought about the consequences. Getting laid wasn't worth the trouble that always comes with having sex with someone you work with. As a slave, he’d pretty quickly learned to stick to choosing lovers outside his work details. If it’s more than sex, it might have been worth it, but that's all it was to him.

“Kate, it’s not DiNozzo. You're attractive, but I can't be kissing women just because I find them attractive. I was hoping I'd feel more, but I don't. You deserve more, and I can't give you that. I respect you too much.” _Damn, that sounded like a load of 'it’s not you, it’s me,’ horseshit._

Kate looked more offended than hurt. “So, you kissed me because you were just looking to get _lucky_?” She hit the emergency stop button and returned to the bullpen. “Pigs. I work with pigs.” She shot daggers at Tony as she grabbed her jacket, and almost run into Dorneget as she whirled around to leave. “Ugh, excuse me.” She needed to talk to Abby.

Tony dropped his shoulders and looked at Jethro and shook his head. Jethro shrugged and sat back at his desk. They had an extortion case to figure out.

Kate went down to Abby's lab and found her pacing. Before she could bitch about the boys upstairs, she was concerned. “What's going on, Abby?”

“Ducky needs this evidence. And...I just...I've been having these nightmares for about a month. I was on Ducky's table and I was dead and now I can't go in there. I tried, but I just can't.”

Kate nodded and held out her arms, “give it to me, I can bring it.”

Abby hugged her and handed her the box. “Oh, just be careful, Ducky said something about an infectious autopsy.”

Kate narrowed her eyes. She hadn't heard anything about an infectious body arriving, and she was currently acting SFA. She’d have to ask Ducky what was going on when she got down there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter may take a few days... I apologize in advance


	49. Saturday +5 1100

Tony threw his phone down with frustration the third time Kate didn't answer. “Damnit, Jethro, what did you say to her?”

Jethro’s head snapped up and he looked at the empty desk across from him. “‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ basically. Did you check with Abby?”

Just then, their screen blinked and Abby’s face popped up, larger than life. “Hey guys? Have you talked to Ducky? He’s not picking up.”

Tony got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He punched the number for the phone cam in Autopsy with no answer. “Dorneget, surveillance for Autopsy.”

“Yes Boss.” He spun his chair back to the computer he was using and pulled up the cameras...one by one filling the screen with static.

They all spoke at once

“Shit.”  “Damnit.” “Uh  oh.”

Dorneget immediately scoured the surveillance history for Autopsy and the halls and elevators as Tony prepared to go down. Jethro grabbed his elbow, “let's see what we’ve got first...stupid to add yourself to a bad situation instead of fixing it.”

Tony nodded as he tightened his vest and headed back to the bullpen. “Alright.”

“Whaddya got Dorney?” Tony asked, and stilled at the white face that met him. The plasma clicked on as the trio watched the events of that morning.

Ducky and Palmer pulled a body from the cold, still in the body bag. “We didn't have a case this morning, sir.” Dorneget observed. Tony’s eyes flicked his way, but immediately settled back on the screen. As the pair set about preparing the tools, the body bag  _ moved _ . Someone was in the bag. The face wasn't visible, but the gun pressed to Jimmy’s right shoulder definitely was. If he was shot there, it’d be shattered.

“Let's hurry this along, I don't have three hours to watch this in real time.” Tony snarled, grabbing his guns and badge from the drawer in his desk. Jethro checked Kate’s drawer...her Sig was still there and he shot a glance to Tony. When he looked back at Jethro and saw the paddle holster in his hand, he nodded. Jethro tucked it into the waist of his pants, and pulled his shirt out to cover it.

Too slowly, even at 32x fast forward, they watched the scene play out. The gunman never turned his face toward either camera covering that end of the room, and then they saw Kate at the glass. Ducky tried to get the box from her hand and send her on her way, but the gunman pulled her into the room. Several minutes passed, and the gunman took Kate’s backup, giving him a bigger advantage. He kept focusing his gun on Palmer, though, obviously using him as leverage against the agent and senior M.E. Suddenly, he aimed the gun at the two cameras farthest from him and they went to static. He turned slightly to the third camera, but they couldn't make out his face before it too went dead.

Then he trained his gun on Kate and pulled her close. He pushed the silencer hard against her throat, aiming straight up toward the top of her head, and turned directly to the last camera. As he looked up, Jethro felt his stomach lurch. The dark haired man waved at the camera, then grabbed Kate hard and shot the final visual to static.

Before he realized it, Jethro was on the elevator, cursing DiNozzo's reflexes as his hand slid between the closing doors. Tony grabbed his shirt and yanked him back. Jethro fought his instinct to punch him in the gut and simply balled his fists and snarled, “Let. Me. Go.”

Tony's eyes showed a fire and rage he hadn't expected. “You know something, tell the goddamn class.”

“He’s after me, he can have me. Let me go.” Jethro went to call the elevator back, but Tony grabbed his wrist. He felt Jethro tense his whole arm, but he’d be damned if he was going to let him commit suicide.

“How about you tell me what's going on and we can figure out the best approach. Because if he wants you, that means right now you're the only thing stopping him from killing them.”

Jethro closed his eyes and took a breath. Tony was right, he couldn't go all half cocked on this. He strode back to the bullpen and motioned to Dorneget to follow as he led the others to a conference room and Tony called Vance.

When they sat down, Jethro dialed his phone and put it on speaker.

_ “Fornell” _

“Tobias, where is Anthony DiNozzo Senior?”

_ “Made bail two weeks ago. We tried to hold him, and I did what I could once I knew about you, but attempted abduction of a slave isn't that high of a priority for the courts, even if you're a goddamn federal agent. Why?” _

“You still monitoring his communication?”

“ _ Of course. What’s going on Jethro?” _

“He’s the only one who knows where I work, and we’ve got a situation here. Get me his records.”

He hung up the phone and Tony and Dorneget blinked in shock. “What? I can't have friends?”

He tossed the phone onto the table as Tony responded “Well,  _ nobody _ is friends with Fornell.”

“Don't see why not. Anyway, all I know about this guy is his nickname, “Haas.” He’s the son of my last owner, Dr. Ben.”

“Why is he after you?” Dorneget asked, quietly.

Jethro sighed, “I’ve always been sold cheap. Wanna know why?” The others didn't move, but Jethro continued. “I cause trouble. First Diane, then…” he inhaled sharply, “then  _ Carl _ . Then, mysteriously, half of Dr. Ben’s slaves escaped and all that was left was a pile of bloody chips.”

Tony didn't have time to be impressed. “And they didn't kill you,  _ why _ ?”

Jethro dumped everything he knew on the table “Because there were enough of us left that they couldn't prove who orchestrated it. Haas wanted to torture us all. Ben was too concerned about the money, so he sold everyone to eliminate the threat. Ben is no picnic, but it wasn't intolerable until Haas moved back and took over the day-to-day running of the estate. I guarantee they aren't native to the US. Can't quite place the accent, but they're not exactly the same. Haas is more middle-east, Ben is more Mediterranean, but it’s very similar. I'm assuming my records have more information, but you'll have to ask Vance--”

_ Speak of the devil _ , “ask Vance what?” The man said as he entered the room.

“Abby's been snooping and said she can't find anything on me. If Abby can't find it, I assume you buried them, so you'll have to get the information on my last owner. His son is holding three of our people hostage.” Jethro replied. He didn't care if he was speaking out of turn or it sounded like he was taking over this op, he just needed to get this over with.

“I didn't bury anything. What are we going to do about this, DiNozzo?”

Jethro was confused, but he didn't have time. “A trade. Them for me. Ben blamed Haas for the escape, and I'm guessing he figured out I planned the damn thing, so he wants my head on a pike. Fine. You just have to figure out how to get me out of there before he kills me, but if not, one life for three is a decent trade director,”

“It’s a stupid plan, Gibbs. You may be hell bent on sacrificing yourself, but I'm not.” Tony broke into the conversation. “We’ll go in, but we go in  _ smart _ .”

”Put away the rulers, boys. We’ve got a hostage situation, doesn't matter who the hell it is. Nobody gets into my building, takes hostages, and gets away with it. I'll be in MTAC. DiNozzo, gear up and coordinate.” Vance left and Tony followed. Gibbs grabbed Dorneget by the elbow and pulled him out too.

Tony threw his suit jacket on his chair, tossed his tie with it, and reached into his drawer for his headset. Jethro tried not to watch, but he hadn't seen Tony like this before. The last time they had a big, hard case, Tony was off his game. Today? He was focused, going through the procedures like the professional badass he was. And damn, if the leather shoulder holster stretching tight across the muscles of his back wasn't the hottest thing he’d seen in a while. A beautiful man securely handling deadly weapons? Two of Jethro's favorite things.

He shook his head and set his jaw. He should be thinking about the sadistic sonofabitch holding his friends hostage, not his own lust. He glanced at Dorneget, who had obviously noticed how he’d been looking at DiNozzo, and he just blushed and smiled as he looked back down at his computer keyboard, then up to Tony.

“Dorneget,” Tony said, as he turned toward the probie already watching him, “here.” He tossed Dorneget the knife from his belt.

“Uh, sir, I'm not supposed to…” Dorneget left the knife on the desk, but Tony glared at him.

“Take it, damnit. You don't have firearms training, or I'd give you my backup. If anything goes haywire, I'm not having any of my agents unarmed, rules be damned. That's an order, Probie.”

Dorneget grabbed the knife and clipped it to his own belt with shaky hands. Jethro stepped next to him and grasped his shoulders as Tony strode past them into MTAC. “Practice drawing it. It seems silly now, but it’ll help more than you realize if you need to get to it.” Dorneget met his eyes briefly, but blushed and nodded.

“How the hell did he get in?” Tony demanded as he stormed down the stairs in MTAC.

“Body bag belonging to a Seaman Jones. He supposedly committed suicide, Balboa's team was on the investigation this morning.” Vance told him, turning his back to the gigantic screen. “We’ve already got the FBI’s Hostage Recovery Team on the way. I’m establishing the command center here, you're in charge out there. We’ll get him.” Tony nodded and they both turned toward the screen as a giant screen lit up with the head of the FBI’s HRT on one side, and Fornell on the other


	50. Saturday+5 1200

“Since when do lab rats carry guns?” the bearded man asked, as he took Kate’s revolver from her ankle. She ignored his hands as they traveled across her body, searching for more weapons. When he was satisfied she was unarmed, he thrust his hand into her pocket and pulled out her ID. “Agent Caitlin Todd. _Not_ Abby. *tsk*tsk* lying is against the rules.” He waved his gun in Palmer's direction, “there are consequences, you know.”

“Caitlin did not know the rules.” Ducky interjected.

“Ah, but you did, Doctor Mallard, and you kept up the ruse.” He turned his attention back to Kate, turning the gun over and over in his hand. “You any good with this Caitlin?”

She narrowed her eyes as she glared at him. “Give it back and I’ll demonstrate.”

He smirked in amusement, and continued. “Have you ever fired it in anger?”

She practically snarled, “I would _love_ to right now.”

“Hmmm, see, letting anger fuel your plans is where you make mistakes. You have to accept what is happening, and then handle the consequences logically. Doctor Mallard, please explain the rules to Agent Todd.”

“If we lie, or he thinks we are lying, or we attempt to deceive him, he will put a bullet in one of Mr. Palmer’s joints.” Jimmy whimpered and adjusted his glasses as the gunman strode closer.

“First,” he started, as he aimed his weapon across the room and fired two shots at the cameras at the far end, turned and took out camera 3, then grabbed Kate. “Come here beautiful. Let's show your friends your pretty face, shall we?” He pulled her close and jammed the silenced pistol hard against her throat under her chin and directly faced camera 4. Then, with a small wave, he pulled the gun from Kate’s now bruised chin and shot the camera lens.

Without missing a beat, he changed his angle. “Like I said, _consequences._ ” Without fanfare or emotion, he leveled his gun and shot Jimmy through the knee.

“No!!!” Kate and Ducky ran to Jimmy as he crumpled to the floor with a scream. Kate supported Jimmy’s head and shoulders as Ducky pulled off his jacket and belt, using the latter as a tourniquet and pressed the former to his wound to staunch the bleeding. As he added pressure, Jimmy’s eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness.

“You bastard.” Kate hissed at the gunman, who simply shrugged.

“Cause and effect.”

“Caitlin,” Ducky tried to stay calm, “In my medical bag in my office you’ll find several single dose syringes of morphine.” The gunman raised his weapon, but Ducky stood and stepped between the gun and his co-workers. “He may be unconscious now, but he will regain consciousness, and he will need pain management. I need to stay with him, so Caitlin needs to get me the medication.” He dropped back to the floor to increase the pressure on the wound, and the gunman nodded, following Kate with the gun as she retrieved the syringes and Ducky unwrapped them.

After they hoisted Jimmy’s limp body onto the table, Ducky turned to the gunman and hissed, “I can't wait to weigh your liver.”

****

“His records haven't changed, DiNutzo.” Fornell looked confused, “how did your lab tech miss them? Unless she was too literal--his name on the files is just Jethro Gibs. One B.”

“She wouldn't know to look through slave records, or that would have jumped out at her.” Tony was quickly realizing Abby should probably be up to speed. She could probably find more than Fornell could. “Regardless, what do we know about this bastard?”

The head of the HRT broke in, “Agent DiNozzo, when my team gets there, we’re gonna need eyes in that room. Do you have any way to get a camera in there?”

Gibbs stepped from behind DiNozzo, “I thought the same. Autopsy is in the subbasement, we can drill through the floor of the forensics lab and thread a scope down there.”

Vance nodded, “do it.” Gibbs took the stairs two at a time and headed to Abby, having Dorneget get the necessary equipment.

Turning back to the screen, Vance and Tony looked to Fornell. “Go on, Toby.”

“Toby?” Fornell rolled his eyes.

“You can't say my name, I can't say yours. Go on.” Tony may have been frustrated, but he was still Tony.

“Fine. This owner “Dr. Ben” is Benjamin Weinstein. I couldn't find much, so I dug deeper, and I'll be damned if we aren't dealing with fucking Mossad. Benjamin Weinstein is one of the aliases used in the US by director Eli David.” Fornell took a deep breath.

“I’ll call him.” Vance said, at the same time Tony said “Fuck.”

“Wait, you'll _call_ him? You're buddies with Eli goddamn Dah-veed?” Tony gaped at his boss.

“Hello, director of a federal agency, DiNozzo. I do have some connections.” Vance spun his toothpick between his teeth. “What else, Tobias?”

“No record of a son, officially, but our contacts out there say they heard rumors of an illegitimate child being raised in Palestine. There’s suspicions he was being used as a mole, but Hamas figured out his connection and he was pulled to the US.”

Tony nodded, “Jethro said he came to the US estate about a year ago.”

“Let’s nail this son of a bitch.” Fornell said, as he shut off his connection. Vance and Tony nodded their agreement and the HRT director picked up the phone to check the status of her DC team.

*****

“OK, we’re almost in,” Jethro said to Dorneget as the pair manipulated the drill through the floor. “And Abby, for God's sake, STOP PACING!”

“I can't, Gibbs. Kate shouldn't be there. It's supposed to be me. Ducky asked me to bring that stuff. It was just some stupid evidence from some suicide last night, it didn't even seem like there was anything there. I should have just brought it, and then Kate would be here helping and you four could kick some serious terrorist butt, and I could be hugging Ducky and everything would work out OK if it wasn't for some stupid nightmare I totally shouldn't have said anything, I'm such a wimp, I don't even know how I got to work at a federal--”

Gibbs stood up and tapped her on top of her head. “Enough. You're babbling. You're out here for a reason.” He looked to Dorneget, “you finish, I need to fill Abby in.” He nodded and went back to his task with the tiny camera. “Abby, do you want to know why I dropped off the face of the planet 15 years ago?” With tears in her eyes, she nodded. Jethro pulled his dog tags out and grasped the newer, shinier one and held it up for her to see. She grasped it, not caring that she was tugging on the chain around his neck and gasped.

“This is a registry number, class B...Gibbs... you're a...a…” She was speechless, which surprised even her.

“I'm a slave, Abs. Attached to Tony for life. We figured it’d be easier if we kept it quiet, but now my past is coming back to haunt me.”

“But I would have seen it, Gibbs, this isn't possible!” There were tears in her eyes and she whimpered a few times as Jethro let it sink in. Suddenly she pulled him into a tight embrace. “I'll kick his ass, the hypocritical son of a rich privileged bastard--”

She would have continued if Gibbs hadn't tugged a pigtail. “Knock it off. DiNozzo got me here, ok? I need to know how this bastard found me. Use my registry number and find the records and go from there. _Now._ ” He pulled the chain over his head and tossed it to her.

Abby nodded, looked at Jethro's tag one more time, then plopped onto the wheeled stool in front of her lab computers. Jethro walked back to Dorneget. “How’s it going?”

“Almost there, sir. I’ll let you do the honors of the final drilling. Don't want him noticing.” Dorneget handed Jethro the controls for the small drill, and while he much preferred hand tools, he still expertly guided the machine through the ceiling of autopsy unnoticed. “Get it running.” He said to Dorneget.

As the camera came online in the lab and on the big screen in MTAC, the team watched it slide through the hole. The first thing they saw was Jimmy lying on the slab. Abby screamed, but Jethro clamped a hand over her mouth. No matter what the situation was, she couldn't be this loud or it might draw attention to the camera.

They all sighed in relief when he started thrashing his head in pain and Ducky rushed to his side and started attending to what looked like a wound on his leg. The gunman stood off to the side, repeatedly checking his watch. When they'd had only about 5 minutes to observe the situation, he motioned at the trio of hostages and Kate joined him at Ducky's desk. She picked up the phone, and Tony's cell rang.

“Tony,” she said, hoarsely, “he says the only thing he wants is Gibbs, alone and unarmed, in 20 minutes. He’ll release Jimmy first if you agree. He shot him, Tony.”

“How bad?” Tony asked.

“Ducky stopped the bleeding, but if he doesn't get to the hospital, he could lose the leg.” Kate tensed and gasped as the team watched the gunman step behind her and slide a hand through her hair. Her voice trembled, “in ten minutes, Jimmy will be outside Autopsy. If Gibbs isn't down here within 10 minutes after that, he’ll kill one of us.”

The gunman placed his weapon directly at the base of her skull, slid it down her spine, then aimed it at Ducky, as if he were giving them a show. Then he looked directly at the mini camera, leveled his weapon, and fired. “Guess he knew we were on to him.” Gibbs said. He _had_ been giving them a show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quotes/dialogue edited from season 1 episode 16 Bête Noire. Exact quotes are placed sporadically, and the whole chapter is my own modification of the episode.


	51. Saturday+5 1300

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dark and not very nice and involves verbal threats and intimidation and brief sexual assault. It's not terribly violent, but the language is strong. I'll put a summary at the bottom for folks who may not be ok with this.

“Don't tell me I can't go, Tony.” Gibbs narrowed his eyes at his team lead, his owner. “I said it from the beginning, let him have me.”

“And when you get there, what's to stop him from killing Ducky and Kate anyway? Huh?”

“Me.” Jethro replied, determination in his eyes. “And he’s not stupid  _ or _ suicidal. He’s patient. He’s calculating. He’s not done, and he’s got an escape planned.”

Tony met his eyes and furrowed his brow, trying to think...“The evidence garage.” Tony said.

Jethro nodded, “least guarded area of the building, most vulnerable.”

Tony tapped the headset and informed the lead agent on the HRT of their suspicions. He agreed and sent two teams to cover the exit point. Turning back to Jethro, he pulled his vest off. “I have time to get another. You don't. Unarmed doesn't mean unprotected.”

Jethro rolled his eyes, “if he wants me dead today, there’s plenty of other shots he could take. Keep it.” He pushed the vest back against Tony's chest, then pulled Kate’s Sig from his pants, and a knife from inside his belt.

“Where’d that come from?” Tony asked, a little shocked. He wasn't opposed, he just had never seen it before, and nobody else had called him on it either.

“Never go anywhere without a knife. Personal rule.”

“Except now.” Tony added.

“Except now,” Jethro said, and placed the weapons in Tony’s hands. “Promise me you'll kill him if I don’t make it.”

“You'll get out of there. We’ve got the HRT ready, and I'll have your six.” Tony felt his voice wavering and he held out his hand to Jethro. A handshake seemed like so much less than what was required, but he couldn't bring himself to offer what he wanted.

“OK. Let’s move,” Jethro said as he grasped Tony's hand. He didn't let go, though. He pulled Tony close for a tight hug that was over too fast, and then he was gone.

“Boss!” Abby ran into MTAC just in time to see Jethro on the screen, two cameras on his person. He paused in the elevator and Abby started shaking. She stepped behind Tony and whispered, “you worried?”

Tony swallowed and gave her a big, albeit fake, smile. “Oh...nah.”

Abby gave him a side hug, leaned her head on his shoulder, and replied, “yeah. Me too.”

****

Gibbs secured the earwig and asked “testing, testing, we good?”

Tony’s voice came through,  _ “Loud and clear. Don't do anything stupid. Keep him talking and keep scanning the room.” _

Jethro chuckled darkly, “he loves to hear the sound of his own voice. Shouldn't be a problem. Jimmy OK?”

_ “He’s already on his way to the hospital. Ducky did good, but we gotta wait and see on the leg.” _ Abby replied.

Jethro straightened his polo and stepped off the elevator. He had two minutes left, and he didn't want to risk Haas misreading the clock. Ducky stood in front of the autopsy doors, and he glared at Jethro as he approached the other side. He punched a code, the doors slid open, and Jethro stepped inside, his hands raised, even though he couldn't see Haas.

“Why did you come, Jethro? I thought you were smarter than this.” Ducky hissed.

“Yes, Jethro, why  _ did  _ you come?” The voice made his skin crawl. “I see Carl was correct in his evaluation of your weaknesses. Women and children. Not that I'm surprised, after your little stunt with Father’s property.” Haas stood against the wall next to the door, his pistol trained on Kate. “Please join our little party. Mr. Palmer was the closest thing I could find on the child front, for now, but I still have Caitlin. ” He motioned for Jethro to move away from the door, and as it slid closed, Ducky punched the code to lock it again.

“Haas.” Jethro said, with disgust.

“Oh, that nickname really bothers me. Father insisted on it, but I'd rather if you called me Ari. Ari Haswari.”

“Doesn't make you any less of a scumbag.” Jethro said.

_ “Gibbs, don't make him mad, he’ll shoot you!”  _ Abby’s voice broke through in the earwig.

Ari noticed Jethro's minute facial twitch and smiled. “Say hello to your team. I presume Anthony is listening? Has he bedded you yet?” And the verbal assaults began. Jethro knew this was his favorite activity, making his victims squirm and twist in the wind with just his words and threats before the physical assaults. Psychological torture.

Jethro heard Tony’s low snarl, but he focused on Ducky and Kate. “Are you two ok?” They nodded.

Ari continued, as he approached Kate. “I'll let you keep your little toys for now.” He ran his pistol across Kate’s throat and down between her breasts. “What about this one? I saw you, you know. Against the wall? How primitive. Then again, I'm not sure I expected more.” Kate closed her eyes as Ari’s other hand strayed up her ribs and slid close to her breast, “I couldn't see from where I was, though. Did you slide your hands under her shirt? Did she moan into your mouth as you kissed her, Jethro?”

Kate was shaking, she couldn't tell how far this man would go with this. Jethro's voice willed her to open her eyes. “Leave her. This is about me, you got me.”

_ “Gibbs! What part of 'keep him talking’ didn't you understand?” _ Tony didn't like where this was heading. Jethro ignored him.

“Oh, yes, yes I did get you. And this is exactly how I planned it. Well, not exactly, but it’s  _ better _ . See, Abigail would have been good, but a woman you've practically made love to? Even better. On your knees. All of you.” He backed away from Kate and leveled the pistol to her skull, “or I start with her.”

Jethro and Ducky knelt on the floor and raised their hands, and Ari shoved Kate off balance until she fell on the floor. “You wanna kill me, kill me. Get it over with and let them go.”

Ari laughed. “I don't want to kill you, Jethro. Not just yet. I want to  _ punish _ you.” He reached into a pocket on his vest and pulled out zip ties, with which he tied Kate to the leg of the sink. He approached Jethro and ran a hand through his short hair, and tightened his grasp, yanking his head up toward him. “You caused our family a great loss, you know. I was  _ finally _ getting things on track, but you had to ruin it.” He released Jethro's hair and struck him with the back of his hand across his face, then resumed circling him. Jethro started to topple, but caught himself and straightened. He tasted blood as his lip swelled, but he ignored it. “Father has removed me from my position. He’s allowed his  _ daughter _ to take over running his US affairs, and that includes his estate. A  _ woman _ . Disgusting. I've been disgraced by a slave and a woman.” Ari paused in front of Jethro and squatted to be at eye level. “But then again, you're not much of a  _ man _ anyway, are you?”

Jethro spat in his face, and he knew Tony would grin at the sight of his blood splattered lightly across the man’s nose, if the angle was right. If he died here, at least he’d die with that image seared into his mind.

Ari simply pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “Gotten feisty, I see. Don't worry, I'll fix that.” He stood and paced a bit, obviously debating something in his head. The he stopped and faced Ducky. “I like you. Because I like you, I'm going to let you choose.”

Ducky glared at Ari without responding. Ari squatted down to his level and faced the other two. “In my many years of training, I have found that sometimes the most effective means of affecting someone psychologically is to exploit them sexually. To that end, I need you to choose which of your friends will be helping me with that matter.”

Ducky looked at him, appalled. “Never. If you must make me choose, then use me.”

Ari shook his head, “no, you see, that wouldn't have the same effect on our friend Jethro. He wouldn't like it, of course, but his soft spot is women and children. You are neither.” He loudly explained his reasoning. “If I were to have my way with Caitlin, it would most certainly be his fault, and it would likely break him, at least temporarily. However, should I force you both to watch as I used him, the humiliation would have a similar effect. I'm truly torn.”

Jethro straightened his spine, and Kate pulled against her bindings. At the same time, they both tried to save Ducky from this fate. “It’s me you want,” Jethro snarled, and Kate yelled, “just do what you want.”

They looked at each other, and Kate lowered her voice. “You don't need to protect me, Gibbs.” She raised her chin and spoke to Ari again, “you won't break him, even if you hurt me. You want to try? Go ahead.”

Ari smiled at them and leaned over to Ducky, “Isn't it sweet, your friends coming to your rescue?” He stood and trained his pistol on Kate as he stood behind Jethro. He squatted again, leaning slightly on his back and slotting his head directly next to Jethro's. He spoke clearly into the ear that contained the earwig. “How much does she know, Jethro? Does she know how much of a whore you are?” He kept his pistol and eyes on Kate, his opposite hand on Jethro's hip now. When he felt the man tense, he squeezed hard. “Unh-uh. You try  _ anything _ and she’s dead. See, unlike Carl, I don't need alcohol to control you. I've got the training to stop anything you can throw at me, and your friends will die, slowly, as a result. Do  _ not _ test me.”

Kate clenched her jaw and kept watching Jethro. His eyes were cold and hard and angry, but nowhere near broken. Ari began again, “When she wrapped her arms around you in that basement and grabbed your ass, did she know you are capable of multiple orgasms? Even drunk, your owner made you cum, what, 3 times in a row sometimes? That having a cock in your ass made you scream?”

Jethro felt the bile rise in his throat, but he kept his eyes on Kate. Ari wanted her to react, he wanted to see her shock and hoped Jethro would crack. It almost worked, as Kate’s eyes widened for a brief second. She brought her face back to neutral, but Ari had caught the momentary lapse. Jethro felt the puff of air as he huffed in amusement. “Of course she didn't know. But which part? You're the strong, silent type... perhaps she didn't know how often you were chained to Carl’s bed and used by him and his buddies? Maybe she thought you were more of a top?” Jethro tried to keep his breathing steady. The extra voices in his ear weren't helping anything, as much as they were trying to keep him calm. They were waiting for his signal to come in, he knew it, but Ari’s finger was  _ on _ the trigger. Any movement and Kate would be dead. He kept listening.

“Maybe she didn't know you were a slave?” He pulled his hand from Jethro's hip to his throat, then dipped into his shirt. “You're not even wearing identification. That is a  _ big _ no-no. Why are you hiding it? Ashamed of what you've done to save your own skin?” Jethro couldn't stop the shudder this time. Ari wouldn't have noticed it if his hand wasn't on the skin of his collarbone, but he did notice it.

“I’ll take your reaction to mean I've hit a nerve. She didn't know. She didn't know how you took advantage of your first owner's daughter. You bedded her, lied to her, tried to use her to run away.” Ari took his hand from Jethro's shirt and reached around to his front and grabbed his groin hard enough that Jethro's control wavered. He tensed and snarled, but Ari continued. “Yes, I've spoken to all of your owners.  _ This _ seems to be the cause of most of your problems, doesn't it?”

“What. The fuck. Do you want?” Jethro said through clenched teeth.

“I want you to suffer the same shame that I have had to endure. I want everyone around you to see you for the failure that you are.” He stood and grasped Jethro by the hair again, turning him so his back was facing Ducky and Kate. “And now, you will show me just how talented that smart mouth can be.” Jethro was glad he couldn't see Ducky and Kate. But he was in front of them, on display, and he knew where this was going.

_ “Gibbs, DO SOMETHING! We don't have a visual, you gotta let us know what's going on,”  _ Jethro heard the panic in Tony's voice. He eyed the pistol and Ari’s grip, he wasn't distracted, not yet. The cameras were useless now, pointed at the wall and Ari's pants. He cleared his throat, an action he hoped Ari would see as apprehension, not the “wait” signal.

“Ah, you see, he knows exactly what I want.” Ari said to his audience. “I'm sure you also can surmise what should happen if I feel your teeth at any point.” He moved the gun from its position aimed at Kate, and ran the barrel along Jethro's jawline. “And don't think shock value will help either. If you hurt me in the slightest, I will pull the trigger. While you might extract some slight advantage, your friend will be dead. Not a risk I'm guessing you'll be taking.” He slid his hand to his groin and rubbed himself through his pants. Jethro heard Kate whimper, but he ignored it. He’d dealt with worse, he just hated how, after all those years at Carl’s, his mind was trained to detach from the situation. He wouldn't be as aware as he should. He’d try, but he felt his eyes blur as Ari popped the button on his pants and lowered the zipper. He felt a hand on his jaw wrench his mouth open, much like how Carl would force the alcohol down his throat. He closed his eyes on instinct as he felt Ari step closer to him and press the head of his cock into his mouth.

_ “Jethro, we’re coming in!”  _ Tony shouted, but Jethro couldn't risk Ari taking the shot still aimed at Kate. He reached a hand to his collar and yanked the camera off his button and threw it to the floor. Ari noticed immediately and stomped on it, his gaze not wavering from his target, although Jethro felt his jaw released and the cock slip from his mouth.  _ “Goddamnit! Help us, Jethro. Let us get you out of there!” _

“Don't want your friends interrupting? Pity. Although I can certainly tell I may have overstayed my welcome.” Ari tucked himself away and rubbed his thumb along the line of spit at the corner of Jethro's mouth. “I have one more idea. Stand.” He stepped back to allow Jethro room to get to his feet. Jethro was glad he had kept himself present, and he had recovered almost immediately. He stood and narrowed his eyes at the man, surveying the room again, evaluating his opponent. “I'm a sporting man, and I have a proposition.” Ari slipped Kate's revolver from his waistband and held it in his left hand. “A duel.”

Jethro smirked, “I don't miss.”

“Neither do I. I'd like to see who is faster.” He handed Jethro the pistol and backed away, his finger still squeezing the trigger slightly as it was aimed at Kate. Jethro checked the chambers, which were all loaded, and he watched Ari back away. He spun his wrist, indicating Jethro should turn around, and as he did, he heard Ari say, “Doctor Mallard, would you kindly do us the honor of banging on the table to signal us to fire?”

_ “If you're clear, we’re coming in! This is our chance, give us something or we're coming in anyway, damnit!”  _ Tony yelled into his ear. But all he did was listen for the sound of Ducky's sleeve rattling just before his hand hit the table. He spun and fired two shots, and felt one slice through his shoulder and almost immediately the room filled with smoke and commotion as the HRT and Tony swarmed in, clearing the room. He slid down the wall, holding his chest, and the last thing he saw was Tony hovered over him trying to keep him conscious. The shock was too much, and he couldn't do more than stare, bleary-eyed, at the man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Gibbs goes to autopsy, finds out the gunman's name is Ari Haswari, and he's talked with all of Jethro's of owners, including Carl. Carl told him the Jethro's weak spot is women and children, and about how he used to abuse him and force him to orgasm. Ari doesn't want to kill Jethro, not yet, he wants to punish him. He wants Jethro to feel ashamed, and like a failure, just like he did when his father turned over the estate to his daughter.
> 
> Ari forces Gibbs to start a blow job, but changes his mind and requests a duel. Gibbs gets off two shots, but one of Ari's bullets his him in the shoulder.


	52. Saturday+5 1400

Jethro felt a mask being placed over his mouth and nose, and heard the rip of fabric as someone cut through his shirt. The oxygen helped bring his mind back, and he focused on Tony. When he was sure he could form whole words, he pulled the mask down slightly and asked Tony, “did I get him?”

Tony motioned toward the body lying face-down on the floor. “Yeah.”

Jethro nodded. He pulled the mask up for a few more breaths, then looked back at DiNozzo. He wasn't leaving. “You should check the others,” he said, but Tony shook his head.

“They're fine. Minor cuts and bruises on Kate, Ducky wasn't hurt.”

Jethro squeezed his eyes shut as the paramedics pushed a compress onto his injury. He listened to their report of the wound--through and through, no broken bones, no major damage, bleeding already slowing, probably only a day or two in the hospital. Jethro pulled the mask down and then grabbed Tony with his right hand. “No hospital.”

Tony stared at him, but he continued. “No matter what, they'll chain me to the bed or some other nonsense, and I'm not doing that. Patch me up, I'm going home.”

Tony looked like he wanted to disagree, but he locked eyes with Ducky, who nodded. “Fine. But if you hurt yourself, you're going in.” Jethro patted his arm, and Tony pulled the mask back up over his face. After several minutes, Ducky was getting ready to take over for the paramedics, and Jethro felt good enough to skip the oxygen. One of the HRT agents came over as Jethro was standing and asked, “how'd you get him?” Jethro guarded his arm, but walked over to the body. He kicked it over and groaned. “I didn't.”

On the floor was the young man who’d supposedly committed suicide. Ari must have been wearing a vest and somehow slipped out in the chaos. “Damnit,” Jethro muttered. He wavered, and Ducky sat him down on his chair.   
  
“He was wearing a vest. You didn’t miss, Jethro.” Ducky held his focus as he spoke, “he planned this, you know he did.”   
  
Jethro nodded grimly. “Should’ve aimed between the eyes.”    
  
Ducky shrugged, “Smaller target—center mass is more logical in a situation such as was presented. If it makes a difference, your shots would have killed him instantly. He’s likely in a lot of pain right now. I saw the bullets hit him.”   
  
“Thanks Duck.” Jethro winced as Ducky pulled the compress off his wound and set to work more properly examining it.   
  
“You’re out for two days, then desk duty for a week. FULL desk duty, no lifting, no crime scenes, nothing. If you reopen this, I’m sending you to the hospital, pride be damned.” Ducky’s voice was no-nonsense, and Jethro nodded. “Good. Now, Mr. Palmer made use of the morphine I stocked in case of an emergency after Caitlin’s brush with a rusty nail, so this will definitely not tickle. Hold still please, unless you'd rather have some sense and do this in a hospital?” Jethro narrowed his eyes, and Ducky shrugged.   
  
As Ducky reached for the supplies to stitch Jethro’s wounds, Tony appeared again, having cleared the scene for the techs to do their work. “FBI’s handling this. We’re out. You ok?” Jethro nodded and Tony saw what was about to happen. “Wait…two minutes.” He said to Ducky. He flipped out his phone and dialed someone, talking quietly. When he returned, he was flushed, but smiling. “Abby’s on her way.”   
  
Jethro groaned, did everyone need to see him get stitched up? They’d already heard his dirty laundry aired across the damn agency. But Abby didn’t come into Autopsy. She knocked on the glass and handed Tony something. He returned and raised his eyebrows at Jethro, “It’s not morphine, but it’ll help. Open your mouth.”   
  
Jethro squinted, but Tony wasn’t going to let him see what was in his hand. He shifted nervously, and finally, Jethro tentatively lowered his jaw. Tony settled something made of hard rubber between his teeth. “Bite down. It’s something to focus the tension on besides the pain.” Tony was beet red now, and, if Jethro dared let his gaze wander further south, he probably would have noticed a bulge in his pants.   
  
_ Really? Horny NOW? _ he thought. He brought his right hand to the item in his mouth and felt straps. He let it drop into his hands and snorted in laughter, it was a thick rubber bit. “Where the hell?”   
  
Tony swallowed hard and looked at his feet. He whispered, “I happen to know McGee’s locker combination…and wasn’t sure if he’d brought this home…”   
  
Ducky blinked a few times, shook his head, and continued what he was doing, allowing the two agents to stare at each other uninterrupted.   
  
“At work?” Jethro asked. Tony’s pursed lips answered his question easily, and he rolled his eyes. “whatever, Duck, just patch me up, would ya?” He shamelessly held the bit between his teeth and grunted as he felt the needle pierce his flesh.   
  
Later, Jethro sat in the basement, staring at the bourbon in the mason jar in front of him. If ever was the time for a drink, now was it. “Protective custody,” they’d called it, but basically he was back to being a closely monitored slave. And Ari was still out there. Eli David wasn’t much help, he didn’t want to spare any of his resources, although his daughter had volunteered to help. He spun his ceramic knife in his right hand, then pushed the jar away. No, Ari wasn’t going to stop until one of them was dead, and he wasn’t about to compromise himself. He threw the knife at the post across the room, landing it dead center between the eyes of the mocking photo he’d tacked there.   
  
“Ouch.” Jethro startled as he heard the voice and saw her coming down the stairs.   
  
“Not in the mood for touchy feely crap, Kate.” Jethro said as he turned his back to her.   
  
“Tough.” She kept coming. “I’m here for a while, so I’ll say my piece and then I’ll be on the couch.” She turned the final corner and stepped behind him. “I was an ass.”   
  
He huffed and nodded. “Yup.”   
  
He heard the creak as she leaned on his work bench, “I talked to Dorneget. Told him everything I said about him before I met him. He’s smart. He’ll make a good agent.” She paused, waiting for him to respond. He turned and looked at her. He tried for a cold, uncaring expression, but for all her shortcomings, she WAS a profiler. She saw his face soften, just slightly, and she stepped closer. “Gibbs, I’m sorry. Ned might be new, but he taught me something tonight. We BOTH have to overcome our upbringings if we’re going to get better at this. So, I’m trying, just like he is. Can we start over?” She held out her hand, “Hi, Caitlin Todd. You can call me Kate.”   
  
Jethro sighed and shook her hand, “Jethro Gibbs.” He dropped the handshake and put his hand on her shoulder. “You OK? Really?”   
  
She nodded, but felt tears start to well up in her eyes. “Are YOU? He…What he said…”   
  
Jethro pulled her into a hug, avoiding his left shoulder. “Yeah. I think I am.”   
  
She wrapped her arms around his waist gently, “Don’t worry, I’m not coming on to you,” she said as she buried her face in his chest. “I’m just…I’m so sorry.” Her breathing became slightly irregular, and Jethro tightened his grip as she fought the tears that were coming.   
  
He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s OK, Katie. We’ll get him.” She nodded silently and he just held her for a bit. Maybe she had some preconceived notions, but working with Dorneget had helped that. The kid was growing a spine, he wouldn’t take too much crap, Jethro had no doubt their talk had been productive. And it was nice having friends, real ones, faults and all, even if they were something that could be exploited by bastards like Haswari.   
  
Eventually, she stepped back. “I gotta check in. Tony’s here, but I’m off at midnight. Ned’s taking my place. Craig wasn’t too happy about it, but he got someone to drop him off…Dick.” Jethro chuckled, the guy really was a dick. “Thanks.”   
  
He cocked an eyebrow, “For what?”   
  
She smiled, “for not completely hating me the instant I opened my mouth that day.”   
  
Jethro shrugged, and she turned and headed up the stairs. He turned toward the bourbon, grabbed the jar, and dumped it down the drain of the sink before heading to bed.   
  
*****   
  
Jethro’s sleep was fitful. He took his prescribed pain medication only after Tony cornered him. After that, he didn’t remember much except that his dreams were vivid and painful. He imagined Carl stabbing him in the shoulder, he flashed back to Tony branding him, except THAT was targeted at his shoulder as well, and plenty of other, more ridiculous fantasy worlds. Early in the morning, he awoke with a start and if his shoulder hadn’t slowed him down, he would have punched Tony in the face.   
  
“Woah, woah woah!” Tony deflected the fist coming at him and ducked. He held a damp washcloth in his other hand, and Jethro felt his hair and sheets sticking to him. He dropped his hand and fell back onto the bed. “You broke into cold sweats last night, now you’re burning up. Ducky’s on his way—it might be from the night terrors, or it could be infection, we have to know.”   
  
“I’m fine.” Jethro said as he slid up to lean his back against the headboard. “And how did you know about cold sweats?”   
  
Tony sighed, “couldn’t leave you alone when you started screaming, now could I? Just returning the favor. Wasn’t too long ago I had a matching injury, if you recall.” He gave Jethro a half smile, then reached to the nightstand and held up a thermometer. Jethro grabbed it and placed it under his tongue, waiting for the beep. Tony took it, “99 degrees. Looks OK, but I’d rather have Ducky check.”   
  
“Yes  _ mom _ .” Jethro closed his eyes. He hated painkillers. They made him drowsy, and he’d be sluggish if anything were to happen.   
  
“I have to go to the office today. Ned’s already downstairs, but Kate will be here in about an hour. I’m gonna shower, I already made some sludge for you.” Jethro looked at him, confused, until he smiled brightly, “Sorry, did I say sludge? I meant coffee.” He patted Jethro on his good shoulder and headed off to his room.   
  
After he left, Jethro looked at the other side of his bed and noticed a telltale dip in the pillow and a stray sock stuck in the sheets.  _ Repaying the favor, don’t read into it, _ he tried to tell himself. The smell of decent coffee wafted up the stairs and counteracted some of the effects of the narcotics, and he roused himself enough to make it downstairs.   
  
“Mornin’ Gibbs!”  _ Oh god. _ Ned’s appreciation for the early hours of the day was obvious. Jethro winced at the bright light streaming through the bay window, and waved and grunted a greeting before shuffling into the kitchen and pouring his coffee. He sat at the dining room table with the young agent, and grabbed a section of the newspaper. Soon, the caffeine began having the desired effect, and he was able to focus on the words in front of him, albeit at arms length. Thankfully, Dorneget was quietly reading his own section of the paper.   
  
“Gibbs?”  _ Spoke too soon _ . Gibbs folded the corner of the paper down to look over it at the young man staring at him. He took that as an invitation, instead of a warning, and continued. “I just wanted to say thanks.”   
  
_ Lot of that going around _ . “For what?”   
  
Dorneget still wasn’t making eye contact, but from him it didn’t arouse suspicion. It was just one thing he’d been working on, and Gibbs never made it easy for him. “What you did for those people. At your last…place.” Once he started, his eyes came up. He couldn’t hold the gaze for long, but he made eye contact. “I had a good life, relatively speaking. My grandma, though…when my mom was a kid, there was some bad stuff happening. Mom doesn’t remember much, but grandma told me how bad some places can be. Someone like you helped them get out and bought by the family where they still live. If he hadn’t…I probably wouldn’t be here, my mom wouldn’t have gotten married, my grandma wouldn’t be allowed to cut back on her hours and knit booties for the great grand children she’s convinced she’s going to have. I don’t know anything about him, so I wanted to thank  _ you _ .” His hand stretched across the corner of the table and rested on Jethro’s forearm. Jethro looked at it, expecting the young man to pull back quickly, but he didn’t. He waited.   
  
“Anyone would’ve done it.” He flipped the paper back and started reading again. The same line over and over again, but he didn’t care about the article, he just wanted to signal Dorneget that he was done talking.   
  
He didn’t take the hint. “No, sir, they wouldn’t. Did anyone pull slaves out who were being abused by any of your other owners? Did anyone else step up for them? Did anyone step up for  _ you _ ?” Jethro dropped the paper to the table and Ned’s hand shifted to his upper arm, almost onto his shoulder. “You’re a good man. You’ve been dealt some really horrible situations, and you’re still a good man. So thank you.”   
  
Jethro looked again at Ned’s hand. Just as he was thinking that the kid had certainly grown some balls, the hand slid to his cheek and a chaste kiss was placed on his lips. “I mean it.” His voice was soft and obviously slightly nervous, but genuine.

“Thanks, but you got the wrong guy.” He tried to brush off the heart strings this was tugging at, but Ned wasn't letting him.

“Do you ever let anyone give you a compliment?” It wasn't an accusation, just a question. Jethro looked at him as if he were glaring over the top of his reading glasses, if he had them. “Accept it. You deserve it. You're a good man, no matter how cranky you try to be.”   
  



	53. Sunday+5 1000

_ “Gibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbs!” _

“Abby, can I call you back? Ducky's here with the Spanish Inquisition to torture me.” Jethro had taken another pain pill, at Ducky's insistence this time. He was a bit loopy.

_ “Ok, but Gibbs, you gotta hear this.” _

Jethro's eyes went wide as he listened to Abby's babbling. Oh, this was  _ not _ a good time. His filters were down. He should talk to Tony first. He hadn't even gotten the chance to talk to him about Bella. Add this on top of it? “Thanks Abbs,” he said as he clicked his phone shut. Then, to Ducky, “Give it to me straight, Doc. Am I gonna live?”

Ducky chuckled and patted the back of his good shoulder, “Yes, you’ll be fine. I'd advise keeping these for daytime use only, and once this is all settled, perhaps a few visits to a counselor to discuss your night terrors, but for now, you are doing quite well.”

Jethro ignored the whole “counselor” thing and just nodded as Ducky started to pack up. “How's Jimmy?”

Ducky stopped what he was doing and turned, “He’ll be back to work soon. They almost had to take the leg, but when we forced the issue and said he was a federal agent, they replaced the joint instead. They said it was risky, and he’s not out of the woods as far as healing, but hopefully he can make a full recovery.”

“An agent?” Jethro raised an eyebrow.

Ducky shrugged and turned back to his things, “I bent the truth just a tad. It worked.” He grabbed his bag and held a finger up at Jethro, “And if I hear about you overdoing it, I'll not be happy.”

Jethro nodded and gave him a salute. “Sir, yes sir.”

After Ducky left with Tony, Jethro didn't know what to do. Kate and Dorneget were playing some card game at the table, but he wasn't sure if there was a spot for a third. Until Kate called him over.”wanna take my cards for a minute? Gotta hit the head.” She passed her hand to Jethro and scooted past.

He was grateful for the distraction, but his lips were loosened by the narcotics in his system. The minute they were alone, he asked, “how long?”

Dorneget looked up at him questioningly. “Uh… I've been here since midnight… Playing cards for like 20 minutes… Not sure I know what you're getting at, agent Gibbs.”

“Yes you do. You're just hoping you're wrong and that I can't possibly know. Let me give you a hint. What was the assignment you requested on your hiring paperwork?”

Dorneget flushed a deep crimson. His hands were shaking, and he sat his cards on the table. “Everyone requests the MCRT, it's the top of the food chain, there's nothing strange about that.”

Jethro gave him a half grin, “you didn't request the MCRT. You requested 'Agent DiNozzo's team.’ So, like I said, how long?”

Dorneget broke. “Since I was 13. Larry was kind of a dick, but when he died, Mom told me the truth. How did you...?” He looked at Jethro with tear-filled eyes.

“He told me what happened. Still gives him nightmares. I made up a ruse and went to Abby. Nobody knows the whole truth...except you and me. You have to tell him.”

Dorneget shook his head. “He doesn't even know I exist. He was just a kid when his father made him...I mean, how could he know? Grandma said he never came back to them. None of them did, and then some handyman got mom out first, so nobody higher up knew.”

Jethro was relieved that at least the blame for that day was placed on Senior's shoulders. “Who do you think told the handyman? Someone told Tony. Even as a kid, he tried to save people. It’s what he does. If you think I'm a good man, you should talk to Tony more.”

Kate came back from the bathroom to see Jethro reaching out and stroking Dorneget's hand. As she crossed the living room and passed the bay window, she said, “Hey there, no funny business! And no trying to peek at my cards, Dorney!” The pair smiled up at her and laughed until they heard glass shatter and her face went blank. Blood poured down her face as she crumpled, lifeless, to the floor, and Jethro ran to her side.

“Kate! You son of a bitch!” He shouted, as he ran to Tony’s gun safe and punched in the combination. Unfortunately, the narcotics and adrenaline made him shaky and clumsy and distracted, and the next thing he knew, someone's arm was around his throat and a needle was being pushed into his neck. When he turned, just as his vision was fading, he saw Ned lying awkwardly on the floor as well, glassy eyes open and vacant. “No…” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter since folks were definitely connecting the dots! Another evil chapter coming up. Evil evil Ari.


	54. Sunday+5 1500

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence. Summary at the bottom.

Jethro forced his eyes open, weakly fluttering the lids against the strong drugs in his system. He couldn’t move. As his vision began to clear, he tried to lift his head and found it unrestrained. His neck, however, had a metal chain wound tightly around it. He shifted, testing its configuration, starting to gain control of his muscles, and realized it felt like a choke chain. The kind they used for dogs.  
  
He closed his eyes and tried to maintain his composure. He feigned sleep until he could feel every part of his body, very slightly tensing each muscle to test its response. When he was confident his body was fully responsive, he reopened his eyes. He was upright in the center of a room, hanging by his wrists, his feet barely brushing the floor. He was still dressed in the clothing he had worn to bed, and his shoulder ached and he saw the blood on his chest seeping through his shirt. Ducky was going to kill him. If Ari didn’t do it first.  
  
Kill him. Like he killed Kate. And Ned. But there was no blood around Ned’s body…maybe he’d just knocked him out. Maybe he was OK. If Jethro died here, Tony would move on and be fine, but not Ned. He didn’t know, and if Abby told him what Jethro was asking about, he’d have lost his son before he even found him. Jethro’s mind was still spinning from the drugs, he had to get a handle on this. He slid his feet slightly forward and rested his weight on the balls of his feet, groaning as some of the strain was taken off his shoulders.  
  
“Hello Jethro.” The voice came from behind him. He tried to turn, but the act of twisting his body made him cringe. He didn’t have to look anyway, he knew who it was. “It’s been a while, I’m afraid I wasn’t quite prepared for you to already have medication in your system. But your color is coming back, that is promising. I've been trying to wake you for a few hours, so try not to move too much. You may have some broken ribs.”  
  
“You bastard.” He snarled and tugged at the restraints, ignoring the complaint from his shoulder, but cringing as he felt the evidence of the pummeling he must have slept through.  
  
Ari chuckled as he came closer, “Ah, Caitlin described me the same way, which is actually fairly accurate. Pity, the way she went out. I did like her, you know. But she was a liability I cannot afford to wrestle with right now. Your team is very good, and I had to choose which senior member I was going to allow to live to try and save you before it is too late. Strategically, while I can tell you have an affection for Agent DiNozzo, I knew you would likely be more affected witnessing the death of little miss Catilin.”  
  
Jethro flinched at the memory. He wondered if he still had some of her blood on his skin. “What do you want from me? Did you kill Dorneget too?”  
  
“Oh, your lover boy? He’s not dead. Yet.” Jethro let out a small sigh of relief. If he was alive, they had a chance. “But don’t get too excited, there. You denied my father his slaves. What makes you think you’ll be allowed to see this one?”  
  
Jethro raised his eyes, “because you’re a cocky bastard and you WANT me to watch you hurt him. You think you’ll get away with it, so you won’t care.”  
  
“Eyes down, **_slave_ ** .” Ari brought the back of his hand across Jethro’s cheek, smashing it against his teeth, and he tasted blood.  
  
Jethro brought his head back to center and met Ari’s eyes again. “Fuck off.” Again Ari hit him. This repeated until Jethro could no longer lift his head, and the only thing keeping him conscious was the pain in his shoulders if his knees started giving out.  
  
“Fifteen years, and you never learned your place. It’s too bad Carl had a soft spot for you, he never took you past your breaking point. Maybe he thought he did, he thought you were broken, but you knew how to fake it.” Ari grabbed Jethro’s hair again and yanked his head up. “I won’t fall for it.” He shoved Jethro’s head down with little resistance. “I will break you, body and mind, and then I’ll kill you. I was finally accepted as his son, and your little stunt cost me that.”  
  
Jethro felt something cold and metallic sliding under his shirt, and when he heard the *snip* of the blades, he realized his shirt was being cut off. He closed his eyes and pictured the faces of his wife and daughter, the park where he used to bring them for picnics, but before he could solidify the familiar space, he felt a shock course through his body. “Oh no. Nononono, you won’t be fading away on me again. I saw what you did down in that basement. Carl told me you used to just stop responding sometimes…I know what that means. No happy place here.” Ari tightened the collar around his neck and spun behind his now naked torso. He wrapped a band around Jethro’s neck that contained a black box, and Ari held a remote just inside Jethro’s peripheral vision. “I just need to hit this button,” which he did, and Jethro’s body tensed and his eyes rolled back for a few excruciating seconds, before falling and pulling his weight onto his aching shoulders. “I’ll train you like the dog you are.”  
  
Jethro couldn’t hold on any longer, and his eyes closed as he slipped into unconsciousness.  
  
The blast of icy water caused Jethro to gasp and cough and he felt his chest constricting as he panted and shook. “About time you woke up, boy.” Ari was there, setting the bucket down. “So, after speaking with Mr. Sterling about your time with his daughter, and how you handled that punishment, I’ve pretty solidly decided that straight physical punishment won’t work with you. Good try, though, she was pretty. Too bad she decided to move up from a slave to an FBI agent. Did you know she married your good buddy Fornell? Small world, huh? Screwed him over too, but he’s just paying with his wallet, not his skin. Anyway, moving on.” Ari dropped a bag onto the wooden table and started digging around. “Carl had the right idea, though. You have a kind of savior complex, don’t you? You can’t stand to see other people get hurt, especially if you’re the one who couldn’t save them. Just like you couldn’t save Caitlin. Just like you couldn’t save your wife and daughter. Just like you can’t save your lover.”  
  
Jethro recovered slightly from the shock of the water and got his feet beneath him again. He wondered how long he’d been there, and he groaned when he saw the darkness outside. It had been morning when he was taken. He glanced around him and couldn't immediately place Ari’s movements until he heard a whimper behind him. Ari was half dragging a bound and gagged Dorneget toward a chair in front of Jethro. He closed his eyes in relief, then felt rage bubble up inside him when Ari struck Ned. “You're too big for me to carry you, goddamnit, **_walk_ ** _._ ”

Finally, Ned collapsed onto the chair, and Jethro tried to meet his eyes, tried to convey that it would be alright, that he had the beginnings of a plan, but the young man was practically incoherent. “I suppose opposites attract?” Ari asked, still on the assumption that what he’d seen between the two men in his surveillance had been a relationship of sorts. “I'll admit, his lips are quite soft, just like the rest of him.” Jethro wanted to wrap his hands around Ari’s throat as he pulled a crop from his bag. He laid it on the table and grabbed the collar of Dorneget's shirt, pulling it apart and sending buttons flying through the air. “I haven't seen any scars at all. It seems like your boy was spoiled, wasn’t he? Is that why you want him? So pure, so innocent, so soft.” Jethro felt his skin crawl when Ari roughly pinched the slight roll of fat at Ned’s waist. He wasn't fat, but he wasn't terribly fit either, and Jethro could tell he was self conscious about it. He barely responded, though, only emitting a small whimper at the bruising touch.

“Leave him alone. You've got me, just let him go. We're not lovers.” Jethro drew Ari’s attention back to him, and he was surprised when he saw Dorneget open his eyes slightly behind Ari’s back, wink, then return to their glazed, half-open vacant stare. He was awake. And Ari was underestimating him. This was good. “He’s too young for me.”

“Bullshit! I saw you take him to bed. I saw you kissing! Maybe you haven't fucked him yet, but the signs are there, Jethro.” Ari turned back to Dorneget and grabbed the crop. He struck him several times across the middle, leaving angry red marks, and Jethro grimaced at the strangled cry that rose from his throat as he almost slid to the floor.  “Oh no, boy, no passing out now, we have so much fun ahead of us!” Ari reached a hand under Dorneget's chin and hoisted him back to the chair.

Jethro tested the chains above him, feigning a lunge at the man, but he settled his hands on the metal, gripping tightly. “I'll kill you you son of a bitch!”

Ari turned, a smug grin on his face as he reached for the remote, “I'd like to see you try.” His thumb went to press the button, but this time Dorneget did the lunging. He charged forward, slamming into Ari and knocking the remote out of his hand and pushing him off balance toward Jethro. Immediately, Jethro lifted his legs and swung one over Ari’s shoulder, one under his armpit, and linked his ankle under his knee behind Ari’s back and squeezed for all he was worth. Dorneget fell onto his back and kicked Ari in the groin, distracting him from trying to pull away from Jethro, and then kept kicking. He didn't have time to get his bound hands in front of him, he just needed to help keep Ari subdued until he passed out.

As Ari’s body started to go limp, Jethro hissed at him, “fix your hands--slide them under you and get them in front. I'm not letting him go until I know you can defend yourself.” Ari was trained Mossad, he could easily fake falling unconscious.

Ned contorted his body as best he could and finally, painfully, was able to work his hands in front of him. He wasn't cuffed, he had duct tape around his wrists, and rummaged in Ari’s bag for a knife. When he found one, he cut himself free and grabbed a thin nylon rope from the bag. If Ari was faking, he was doing a damn good job, and Jethro knew his shoulders had dislocated at this point, from the strain of being hung like this for so long, and the added struggle and weight, but he wasn't letting go. Dorneget wrapped the rope tightly around Ari’s ankles, then his lower hand. Finally, with a grunt, Jethro dropped his captor and stood on his back. Dorneget pulled his other hand down, thoroughly immobilizing the man, whether he was alive or not, then went to work unbuckling the cuffs that were holding Jethro to the ceiling.

His arms fell and he cried out in pain, but Dorneget caught him, just as they heard shouts and footsteps charging the house. Jethro fought to maintain consciousness as Dorneget held him on his lap and yelled for the team. The first person to come through the door was a woman he didn't know. Curly black hair, green fatigues, she entered the room and immediately put two bullets into Ari’s skull.

“Overkill.” Jethro whispered, but she gave him a cocky grin.

“You sure he was dead?” She asked. Jethro shook his head and she continued, as Tony swept in, “I am now.”

Tony rushed in and leaned over Jethro, shoving the woman out of the way, “Jethro, can you hear me? How bad? Jethro!”

Dorneget tried not to shift the older man in his arms but put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “He’s been in and out. Yes or no stuff might work better.”

Tony looked at Ned and noticed his calm tone was in total opposition to his appearance. He was bruised, he’d been struck with something multiple times, his clothing was ripped, and he had raised red marks around his wrists and mouth that were probably from duct tape. He nodded, then asked “you ok?”

Ned flushed and nodded, “I've been better, but yeah.”

Tony gave him a small smile and turned his attention back to Jethro. “Medics are here, I hear them now, ok? You're going to the hospital this time, but we’re way outside DC, and you don't have ID. You're a federal agent here, no chains.” Jethro nodded and now that he knew he and Ned were safe, he let himself drift back to his family picnic. He could ignore the pain, the jostling, the setting of his joints, all of it, as long as he had his girls.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a photo of how I envision Dorneget in this. Totally adorable enough to be a DiDorney!
> 
> Summary:  
> Ari hangs Jethro by his wrists from the ceiling, beats him, and reveals Ned is alive. He thinks they are lovers and starts to beat him, thinking he's still semi-unconscious but when Jethro distracts him, Ned knocks Ari over and Jethro chokes him out with his legs.
> 
> Ned ties Ari up just as Ziva comes in and shoots him in the head--not sure if Jethro had killed him or not. Tony pushed in right after and they're going to take everyone to the hospital, but Jethro will be checked in as an agent, not a slave


	55. Monday+5 0100

Hey Agent DiNozzo.” Dorneget crossed the room with a cup of coffee, two extra hazelnut creamers in his hand in case he didn’t make it right. Tony was seated next to Jethro, trying to type up his report on the small screen of the tablet McGee had brought him.  
  
“I don’t know how anyone uses these things!” He tossed the device on top of his bag on the floor and rested his head in his hands. It didn’t help that the internet was spotty here and he kept losing connection, making him have to retype section after section. When Dorneget shook the cup slightly, bringing his attention back to it, he smiled and grabbed it. “Thanks. You released?” He nodded, and Tony slipped the black collar from his pocket. “Maybe I can convince Craig to toss this.”  
  
Dorneget took the collar and turned it over in his hands. “I’ve been a slave for 25 years, I can handle one more. I just hope I don’t get transferred back to a basement somewhere. The good parts of this job have been so much better than anything else I’ve done the past 4 years.”  
  
Tony flinched when Ned mentioned his age. He hoped he didn’t notice—that wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with the kid who so obviously had a thing for the same man he was longing for. The thought crossed his mind for the umpteenth time that day, and he’d stopped ignoring it. Somehow, he’d fallen for Jethro. Hard. No pun intended. “You can head home if you want. My door is open, Tim or Kate…” Tony cleared his throat and closed his eyes, then continued, “Tim should still be here, the FBI let him out of his cave for me, he can bring you if you want.”  
  
Dorneget shook his head. “I’m OK. I’ll stay, if it’s alright with you.”  
  
Tony nodded. He expected Dorneget to pull up a chair on the other side of Jethro, but instead, he sat next to him. He patted Tony’s shoulder awkwardly and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes.  
  
As the morning sun poured through the windows, Jethro blinked and surveyed his surroundings. At his side, Tony had fallen asleep with his hand on Jethro’s thigh. Beside him, Dorneget was snoring softly, leaning against the wall. His face was still swollen, and he was developing an impressive shiner, but the rest of him must be OK if he was here instead of his own bed. And he wasn’t wearing his collar. Tony must have done the same thing for him as he’d done for Jethro, since he wasn’t cuffed to the bed in any way either.  
  
As he stirred, Tony shifted and sat up, rubbing his sleeve across his mouth in case he was drooling. “You’re awake.” His statement woke Dorneget too, who sat upright and leaned forward.  
  
“Amazing deductive skills, Agent.” Jethro chuckled, hoarsely.  
  
Tony’s face was grim, “I’m sorry. I didn’t get a chance to tell you, before…” he gestured toward Jethro’s prone form in the bed, and continued. “My dad did tell him where you were. He gave him the code to your chip, and he followed you for at least a week. He told them about how you tried to protect Celia, but thankfully didn’t think to mention where she was.”   
  
“Not your fault, DiNozzo.” Jethro tried to reach over and pat Tony’s hand, but the pain, and sling, stopped him.  
  
“You need something for the pain?” Tony reached toward the call button, and Jethro stopped him with a glare.  
  
“Advil. Aspirin. Tylenol. That’s it.”  
  
Tony nodded, but before he could hit the button, the door opened and Ducky stepped inside. “Thank heaven! We were all so concerned for the two of you.” His relief faded and he lowered his eyes in sadness, “the room we found…I’m so sorry you had to witness…”  
  
“DiNozzo, Dorneget, can you give us a minute? Go grab some food or something. Bring me back some real coffee?” Jethro asked, and Tony nodded. He held Ned’s eyes for a moment as Tony slid by, and motioned with a tilt of his head to Tony’s back. Ned swallowed hard, and Jethro narrowed his eyes. _Tell Him_. He tried to convey, and Dorneget nodded in resolution as he left.  
  
“What was that about?” Ducky asked as he sat in the chair Tony had vacated.  
  
“Not mine to tell, Duck.”  
  
Tony felt the uneasiness in the air as they rode the elevator in silence. He chalked it up to the loss they’d just experienced, and he didn’t feel like talking about it, so he didn’t ask. As he headed toward the second floor cafeteria, Dorneget cleared his throat. “Uh…sir? Could we…um…” Tony looked back at him and noticed he’d leaned back against the wall of the elevator, slouching and hanging his head.  
  
“Agent Dorneget, you just helped take down a highly trained rogue Mossad officer with your hands behind your back, I think you can stand up straight and talk to me.” His voice was firm, but supportive. Something was eating at the kid, but he couldn’t let him slide backwards.  
  
Ned took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and held the door, punching the first floor button. “Can we get some real food? There’s a diner about half a mile from here. The nurses said it was good. Better coffee, too.”  
  
Tony nodded and slid back into the elevator.  
  
As they settled into a booth, Ned’s leg started bouncing. Tony was instantly annoyed, even though he’d been known to do exactly the same thing in times of stress and high nerves. “OK, out with it. What? You slept with Jethro? You want to quit? Either one I’d understand kid.”  
  
Ned shook his head. He reached into his pocket to fish out his wallet that had been returned to him. Inside, he found what he was looking for. A family photo from when he was about 3 years old. Him, his mom, and his grandma. He wasn’t even sure Tony would recognize them, but he couldn’t get his mouth around the words. He chewed on his bottom lip as he placed the photo face down and slid it across the table.  
  
Tony looked at the back of the photo, at the elegant script on the back. The date was 22 years prior. Ned covered his face with his hands as Tony took the photo and gasped when he saw her. Marguerite. Marge. With a small, curly-haired preschooler. He dropped the picture and grabbed Ned’s wrists, yanking his hands to the table with a loud *thud* and holding them tight. He didn’t even know what to say, he just _looked_. His heart was in his throat, threatening to push the coffee back up and out, he started shaking. “How?” He whispered.  
  
Ned couldn’t stop the tears from falling, but he found the words and let them all tumble out. “Mom told me the truth when I was 13 when my dad...well, step dad...died. She never blamed you, not really, it was your dad and those…I won’t even call them ‘men.’ When I went to high school, and then college, I looked for you. I eventually found your dad and snuck a phone call to him, I pretended to be a businessman looking for references for a job, and he gave me your phone number at work. When I found out about the work program here, I worked my butt off to get in. I wasn’t the fittest, but my grades and computer skills helped me. I didn’t even know you knew I existed until Jethro found out. I don’t know how, but he did. I just wanted to get to know you, and if you grew up like your dad, I was going to quit and try and get into the work program at the FBI or something. But you’re not. You’re nothing like him. Jethro said you’re the one who told the handyman who got us out?”  
  
Tony tasted the salt from his own tears in the corners of his mouth, but he couldn’t move. Dorneget was nervous and scared of rejection, but he’d had plenty of time to work himself up for this. Tony was still in shock. Marge didn’t hate him. He had a son. His son didn’t hate him. His son was here. His son had saved Jethro with his hands tied behind his back. He was a goddamn hero. He had his mother’s curly dark brown hair, and grey-blue eyes he couldn’t place, but his smile, when he'd had the chance to see it, was full of the DiNozzo charm. “Why?”  
  
Ned lowered his eyes and shrugged. “I needed to know. Maybe grab pizza when I’m Free or something, y’know?”  
  
The request for something so simple and normal made something snap inside Tony. He stood and pulled Dorneget off his seat, wrapping him into a hug that probably hurt, and even though he had a solid two inches over Tony, Ned sank into his arms. “I couldn’t find you. I tried. As soon as I left, and then when I got internet, and then when I got security clearance, but Joel was good. I don’t know how, but there was no trace. And I couldn’t find Bella either. Are they OK?” Ned nodded and Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “I didn’t know if you existed, but I wanted to know. I needed to apologize. And if I could help…” his eyes went wide and he pulled the collar from Ned’s pocket. He pulled his knife from his own pocket and cut it in half. “never again. You hear me? Come on.”  
  
Ned started to protest, he really was hungry, but Tony promised they’d go back as soon as this was done. He called Ducky as he was getting into the car, “Duck, I need you to set up a blood test. Now.”  
  
_“What kind of test, Anthony? You seem agitated, is something wrong?”_  
  
Tony shook his head, “I just need paperwork to show NCIS, I need a paternity test.”  
  
“ _Anthony, do you have reason to believe your father is not your biological father_?” Ducky was obviously confused.  
  
“Every damn day, Duck, but that’s not why. Just set it up.” He hung up the phone and looked at the young man in the passenger seat. He looked crushed. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I get it. You don’t believe me.” Ned looked at the photo in his hands and frowned slightly.  
  
Tony raised a hand and slapped the back of his head. “No, dinghy. If it’s on paper that you’re my son, you’re Free. Period. Lots of Freemen make babies with slaves, and if they don’t claim them, then the kids are slaves. But if you’re claimed and it’s proven, then you’re considered MY son, which makes you Free. Marge and Bella we’ll work on next, but we can fix this right here, right now. We remove the chip, no more contract, no more collar, no more DD Craig, none of it.” He took Ned’s hand and squeezed, “I wish we’d had this conversation when you were 13. I wouldn’t have known what to do, I was just a rookie cop in a new precinct, but I’d have done my best. I hope you can believe that.”  
  
Ned nodded as they peeled out of the diner’s parking lot back toward the hospital. Tony laughed when Ned’s stomach growled in protest


	56. Monday+5 1000

“Duck...I can't be stuck like this for a MONTH. I gotta shower. And use the head, for God's sake.” Jethro waved his hands as best he could.

“Jethro, the slings are to simply help keep you comfortable and generally immobile. I would recommend using them for the four weeks, but yes, you can use the restroom and shower. Just don't overdo it, alright?”

Jethro nodded. He hated being taken care of. And no way in hell was he getting help taking a piss. Shifting slowly wasn't too bad, but any sharp movement hurt like a bitch. He wondered how long it would be before he could jerk off. _That_ was really going to make him cranky.

“And if you expect to ever return to field duty, you _will_ do your physical therapy.” Ducky’s voice was serious as he cut into Jethro's thoughts and pointed a finger at him in warning.

“Understood. I screwed up your handiwork,” he motioned toward his shoulder, which had been re-stitched and bandaged.

Ducky laughed, “well I think I'll excuse it this time.”

Just then Ducky's phone rang. When he was done, he turned to Jethro, “why would Anthony be requesting a paternity test? Does it have something to do with the unspoken exchange between you and young agent Dorneget?”

Jethro shrugged, “gonna have to wait to ask him.”

A few hours later, the test results were back, and Tony was raising hell to find someone who could remove Ned’s chip _“_ Right goddamn now.” DD Craig was on the phone claiming Ned couldn't return to NCIS, since the hiring was contingent on 5 years as a slave, and a guaranteed 20 years employment, and if Ned was Free, then the contract was null and void.

 _“Shut it.”_ Vance said as he was patched in to the call. _“He’s been working for us for 4 years, why WOULDN'T we hire him on a permanent basis? I'm not soothing your ego, Craig. He’s an asset, whether we hold a contract over him or not. But he can't work the MCRT, DiNozzo. Sorry kid, until DiNozzo leaves, you’re basically blacklisted from his team. Rules are rules, and I can't have him distracted in the field. Or you. In-office consulting is the best I could do if necessary.”_

Ned nodded at the image on the tablet screen. “Does that mean I'm still hired sir?”

Vance smirked and Craig shut down his connection with a huff. _“Yes, you're still hired. Come to my office tomorrow morning, we’ll find you a proper assignment. It’ll take a week, two max, to get your funds released, and you can stay at the barracks for a month or so if you need time to find a place.”_

Dorneget nodded, and Tony made a mental note to sit him down and talk about living arrangements and specifics, until this was all settled, but he didn't want to do it in front of Vance.

_“Congrats, both of you. Not something I expected, but...welcome to fatherhood, DiNozzo.”_

Tony ended the call after they said their goodbyes, and slid the tablet back into the bag. McGee came into the room, and Tony immediately motioned for him to follow him into the hallway. “Here's your tablet. Definitely NOT going to use that for reports ever again. Oh, and no taking advantage of Dorney. Period.” His voice was low, but threatening.

McGee held his hands in the air, “wouldn't dream of it. Well, now that I know what I know. Anyway, Tony, look,” He dropped a hand onto Tony's shoulder and looked him in the eye, “you know you're a good guy, right? I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn't tell me. If I'd known, I would've done whatever I could.”

Tony nodded. “I know, Tim. It wasn't your fault. For that it's worth, you did help, because I knew that if I was in a bad place, you'd be there. I didn't have to think about it.”

“So...you told Jethro?” McGee asked, holding Tony at arms length. Tony nodded and McGee continued, “just tell him _everything_ , would you, please?”

Tony balked, “what do you mean, everything? This is it, my childhood dirty laundry, the MOAS, what else?”

Tim slid his hand up towards Tony's neck and squeezed. “How you feel about _him_ , Tony. Forget your whole ‘slave’ rule. You don't treat him like one, he doesn't act like one, just go for it. Labels be damned. He’d be good for you.”

Tony lowered his eyes and sighed. Maybe Tim was right. “You suck, you know that?”

Tim grinned evilly, “depends on the company. But you're pretty damn good at that yourself.” He bumped his hip against Tony's jokingly and stepped back. “Just do it. He cares about you too, you know.”

Tony looked through the glass into the room and then closed his eyes. Jethro was already trying to ditch the slings...this was going to be a fun few weeks. 

*****

“For God's sake, _sit down_!” Tony was nearing the end of his rope. Jethro was bored as hell, and had started leaving his slings draped on the couch, a chair, the counter, anywhere he could when he decided they weren't necessary. He was puttering and working on something GIGANTIC in the basement, when he shouldn't be.

“It’s been two weeks, DiNozzo, I'm fine! Get out of the way!” Gibbs was pissed that Tony was ordering him around. His shoulders ached on and off, but it wasn't that bad. His range of motion was increased already, and he’d been working out more, so he felt good. Now Tony wasn't letting him into the basement. “You're gonna order me around? _Spank_ me if I don't do as I'm told?” He was fuming, and that always worked to get DiNozzo to back down.

But he didn't this time. He reached a hand around Jethro's head and smacked him. “No, dumbass, don't pull that owner/slave bullshit. I've got a goddamn degree in this, and I know what I'm talking about, and I'm not gonna let you hurt yourself even more just because you can't _deal_ with being bored. I need you on my team, and, hard as it may be to believe, I actually care about your well being. So put your slings back on and stay out of the damn basement!” He’d inched closer to Jethro's face and it all came out in something close to a growl. He was done feeling bad. He’d say the same thing to Tim if he was pulling stunts like this, and Jethro knew it. The pair stayed in that position for what seemed like hours. Nose to nose, Jethro stretching slightly to make up for the slight height advantage DiNozzo had, staring each other down.

Finally, the doorbell rang. After Ari, Tony had started locking the door. Tony took one last look at Jethro, smiling inside as he took note of the slight flush to the tips of his ears and the increased heart rate that betrayed him at his throat. “Please.” He narrowed his eyes and reached behind him to the back of the couch where the slings rested.

Jethro caved. He hated it when he was wrong, but he had to admit this was stupid. He was frustrated, sure, but long term this could affect his ability to work. “Fine.” He grabbed the slings with a wince and let Tony help him get them on. The doorbell rang again, with a knock this time.  
  
“Come on DiNutzo! I have an appointment with your boyfriend!”  
  
Tony rolled his eyes, “Did you really have to invite him over? You know he hates me, right?”  
  
Jethro snorted, “if he hated you, he’d ignore you. You’re like an obnoxious kid brother he never wanted.” He went to the door and awkwardly leaned over to turn the knob, letting Fornell in with the bags of Chinese food.  
  
“Brought extra in case the Moose wanted to join us.” Tobias was starting to like Ned, but he had to say something to distract from the fact that he was the smallest person in the house.  
  
“Nah, he’s out. On a date. Tony’s mad he didn’t get to give the guy the shovel talk.” Jethro shot Tony an evil grin.  
  
Tobias laughed, “The kid is 25 years old, I think he’ll be fine.”  
  
“He’s going out with an FBI agent.” Tony said with disgust. “I gotta talk to him about his low standards.”  
  
“Someone in DC?” Tobias asked, curious now…he wondered if he knew him.  
  
Tony sighed, “Yeah. Weird scrawny guy, but smart as hell. Works out of the BAU, we just sent them a cold case and Ned helped with the file transfer and they just clicked I guess.”  
  
Tobias laughed, “well, if he gives Ned any trouble, which I doubt, I’ll call up Hotch. He’ll set him right.” He knew some members of the team, and Reid was a good kid. Thought he was hung up on Hotchner, but maybe that didn’t work out. The more he thought about it, as much as they were total opposites physically, personality-wise they really might work well together. “Honestly, Reid is probably a really good thing for him. If he doesn’t get easily bored by random facts.”  
  
The trio sat down to eat, and Jethro sighed in relief when he saw that his chicken had been ordered in small pieces. He couldn’t handle the embarrassment of having someone cut his food, or trying to do it himself. He’d had too much babying already. He kept his upper arms in place, but alternated which hand he used to eat, and made it through his meal almost as quickly as the other two.  
  
After dinner, Tony excused himself to head to the desk in his room, saying he had some calls to make, and left Tobias and Jethro downstairs. The mood turned somber when Fornell cleared his throat. “I talked to Diane.”  
  
Jethro groaned, “Tobias, do we have to do this?”  
  
Fornell sighed, “Yeah, she insisted. She apologized. Profusely. Granted, I’d take it with a grain of salt, considering she takes about half of my paycheck and barely lets me see Emily, but I promised I’d tell you. She said _she_ didn’t want to get in trouble, and she didn’t know how bad her dad would get. She figured he’d just sell you. She said some other things about you, but I’m pretty sure that was for my benefit.”  
  
Jethro glared at him, “other things?”  
  
“Your…” he coughed uncomfortably, “Let’s just say, apparently I don’t ‘measure up’ if you know what I mean. She never misses an opportunity for a dig, so I’m just not going to think about it.”  
  
Jethro laughed, “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with her.” His tone immediately turned serious, “Promise me she won’t come near me. Ever.” And damnit, thinking about Diane made his back itch. He unconsciously rubbed it against the back of the chair.  
  
“If she does, I’ll kill her myself. She’s a snake, but Jesus, I never thought she’d let someone be…” Fornell made a gesture like he couldn’t say it.  
  
“Flogged? Beaten? Whipped?” Jethro said it for him.  
  
“Yeah. Although, she should have known. It wasn’t the first time her father had done it, at least that’s what she said, so I call bullshit on her little sob story.” Fornell’s face was red in anger, and he reached into a paper bag he’d brought and fished out the bourbon.  
  
Jethro nodded. “You’ve met me, obviously. You think sleeping with his daughter was the only thing I ever did to piss him off? At that point I was barely in survival mode.”  
  
Fornell went to take a swig from the bottle, but stopped and angled it toward Jethro, eyebrows raised. Jethro shook his head and Fornell downed several gulps. “Be impolite not to offer.” He said, as he wiped a thumb across the corner of his lip. “Poker when your boy comes down?” And the Diane discussion was closed.  
  
Jethro rolled his eyes at Fornell's continued insistence that he and Tony were a couple. Then he snorted prematurely at his own joke. “I play my cards close to the vest…” wiggling his fingers again trapped just past the edges of the slings.  
  
Fornell groaned, “DiNutzo is wearing off on you. I like you better when you’re surlier than me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Muse kinda wants to see Dorney and Reid together. If I do that, it might be a separate smaller fic in a series with this one. If people are interested, I'll write it. Or I can probably placate Muse with just a chapter here. Thoughts?
> 
> Also, smut next chapter. Tensions are high with cranky Jethro... Just wanted you to know it is coming ;)


	57. Monday+8 0300

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update kind of day! I almost waited until I had more written on the next chapter, but I'll just leave this here and you can wait a little longer for more smut lol

“So you’ve got someone here in the US who can help me with this?” Tony stared at his notes and flipped the business card over and over in his hand. This call to Ducky's lawyer friend in Scotland was costing him an arm and a leg, but he’d pulled through. This was the loophole he’d been looking for. Now he just needed someone licensed _here_ to take the case.

_“We have a network of people interested in the freeing of slaves. I have one gentleman just outside DC who helps the lobbyists, but he’d certainly be interested in a case such as this. We’ve been successful before, but we’ve also lost these cases. It’s not uncommon, but not frequently recorded because it almost never makes it to trial before either the issue is corrected, or the slave is simply returned to his or her old status.”_

Tony nodded. Whatever happened would be a quick resolution at least. He took down the information on the local attorney, a Gerald Jackson, and thanked Reginald for his hard work. He yawned and rested his head on the table. Damn time difference meant he'd had to wait until _now_ to call. With everything going on, he was pretty sure he hadn't slept more than 2 hours a night in over 3 weeks.

I didn't help that Kate was in his dreams now. His team felt empty. He’d gotten paperwork from Eli David’s daughter requesting a trial position as a 'liason officer’ to NCIS, on his team, and he hadn't decided what to do. Technically, Vance could overrule whatever decision he came to, but he figured he needed to know what he really thought about it, at least. And she was no Kate.

Kate was flawed, but fiercely protective. She would grate on his nerves, mock him for his antics, but if anyone outside the team considered claiming he wasn't fit for his job, she’d kick their ass. She'd take her joking too far sometimes, but she was quick to come back and make it right. He didn't always like her, but he loved her. She was family. Ziva was cold and aloof, she seemed to look down her nose at everyone, even though she was shorter than them all. He recognized a mask when he saw one, but right now he didn't have the energy to want to figure out who this Ziva really was. She’d double tapped her own brother to save Jethro and Ned, he’d give her that (granted, Ari was already dead, but she didn't know that). But he wasn't sure yet.

Slowly, Tony’s thoughts turned into images, and he was dreaming again. His head rested on a pillow of cold case files and his bed was empty for yet another night.

*****

They weren’t speaking. Two days now, and the most Tony had given Jethro was a grunt as he passed by in the mornings. A boat? That’s what was downstairs, a friggin’ boat. The man was still recovering from two dislocated shoulders and a gunshot and cracked ribs and they still had to recheck his heart after the electrical shocks, but he was downstairs working on a goddamn boat. He was stubborn as a mule. No, an ass. Tony had tried to ride a donkey once when he’d traveled to Italy to see his mother’s family, and the damn thing was impossible. And grey. Jethro was definitely an ass.  
  
Tony tried really hard NOT to let that segue into thoughts about Jethro’s ass. He was NOT going to be sidetracked in his temper tantrum. He had a master's degree in physical therapy, and Jethro wasn’t listening to him. He wasn’t listening to Ducky either. He was being…an ass.   
  
Tony had enough. He stood up from his desk and stormed downstairs, all the way to the basement. He couldn't wait until Jackson arrived for his weekend visit, this was bullshit.  
  
“That’s it.” He stood at the foot of the stairs, fuming. Jethro was lifting framework into place, his slings draped across the work bench. “Are you TRYING to get yourself forced into retirement?” Jethro stood up straight, a sheen of sweat covered him and it took Tony another few seconds to realize his shirt was also in the pile with the slings. _No. Not getting distracted._ Tony fought the urge to lick his lips, but he couldn't help the increase in his breathing at just how attractive Jethro was when he was like this. “I know what I'm talking about.” His tone was less angry now, but still firm, “I just want you better. You may feel better now, but if you don't take it easy for at least another week, preferably three, you won't fully recover. Stop being an ass.”

Like he'd done a week ago, he crowded Jethro's personal space. It was a poor attempt at intimidation, and he resorted to using his height to his advantage, but he needed Jethro to respond. He did. He put his hands on Tony's stomach, since raising his arms higher would have hurt, and shoved. Tony wrapped his hands around Jethro's upper arms and held him. “If you can't even push me away, what makes you think you're ready for work? You're due to start firearms certification soon, you think you could do that? You'd be better off by now if you'd listen to us.”

Jethro winced at the hands squeezing him so close to his aching joints. He'd overdone it today, and he knew it. But he wasn't going to let DiNozzo intimidate him. “Just leave it, DiNozzo.” His eyes narrowed, and he stepped even closer, leaving his hands at his sides, and pressing chest to chest. Maybe he couldn't push him back, but he knew he didn't need his hands to make someone feel smaller than they were.

Tony recognized the look. Dominance. He hoped Jethro was far enough back that he wouldn't notice the stirring in his pants as he pulled his shoulders back and slowly blinked his eyes. “No. Stop punishing yourself.”

Jethro clenched his jaw and his fists, which hurt, of course, because he couldn't catch a damn break. “What?”

“It’s not your fault she died. It was Ari’s. You killed him for it. Stop. Punishing. Yourself.”

Jethro stepped forward suddenly, affecting Tony's center of balance, and he took advantage of that one small step as he kept pushing until Tony was against the wall. “Screw you.” He said, his breath coming hard and fast in anger and... _no, anger, that's all._

Until Tony tightened his grip and turned them and Jethro found his back forced against the wall. He couldn't stop the hitch in his breath as Tony's hips pressed against his and he felt that Tony was hard. Maybe as hard as he was. Maybe harder. Tony released his arms and rested his hands on the wall on either side of Jethro's shoulders. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself, and didn't look up when he spoke. “I don't want to see you hurt.” Hurt by what, he wasn't sure right then.

Jethro loosened his fists and decided. Screw Tony’s 'rule.’ He grabbed Tony’s waist hard and when Tony brought his face up in surprise, Jethro kissed him. His shock gave Jethro the advantage again, and he pushed until Tony was pinned between the frame of his boat, and Jethro's sweat-dampened chest. Tony kissed him back, running his palms up his chest through the fully regrown hair until he reached Jethro's neck. He slid his thumbs up to Jethro's jaw and pushed back slightly, breaking the kiss.

“Stop.” He choked out, but Jethro shook his head.

“Make me.” Jethro's eyes were serious. Tony knew if he really didn't want this, if he put his foot down, if he left, Jethro wouldn't continue. This wasn't him trying to pressure Tony, it was him being done with their little dance of uncertainty.

 _“Do I look like someone who can’t say no?”_  
_“Labels be damned”_  
_“You think I'd be pissed because you were too nice?”_

Jethro stared into his eyes as Tony replayed the voices in his head. Without warning, his decision made, his hands dropped to Jethro's waist and he popped the button on his jeans. Jethro gasped as the zipper was lowered and Tony grasped his cock through his boxers.

“Tony…” he groaned, already feeling the precum seeping through the fabric, but Tony wasn't listening. He pushed Jethro's hands back to his own chest, where they _should_ be if they were in the slings, turned them so Jethro was leaning against the boat, and dropped to his knees. “Shit…” Jethro leaned his head back and shuddered as the cool air hit his groin when his pants and boxers fell to the floor.

Tony was good at this. _Very_ good. He wrapped his long fingers around the base of Jethro's shaft and slid them up and down, getting a feel for some hot spots he’d have to come back to. He slid his tongue around the head, dipping into Jethro's leaking slit and smiling at the slight shudder he felt in Jethro's thighs. He slid Jethro's skin all the way back, exposing the full head, and took it into his mouth, letting his lips rub gently along the sensitive ridge, and his tongue flick his frenulum.

Suddenly, just when he was ready to _really_ get down to business, he felt a hand in his hair pulling him back, and he looked up. Jethro's face was red, his eyes deep pools of black with thin blue rims. His breath was coming hard and fast, and he spoke breathlessly, “Tony, it's been a while… Not gonna last…”

Tony grinned, _of course!_ He'd been in slings for three weeks… “OK. So, two then?” Without waiting for a response, he dove back to what he'd left, taking Jethro deep into his throat and squeezing the base of his cock tight to give him a little longer before he exploded. Jethro was above him, gasping and cursing and one hand gripped his shoulder hard enough to bruise. Tony sucked him hard and fast until he was shaking, then backed off and gently licked and kissed him from balls to tip. He worried the skin between his teeth, he took each ball into his mouth and rolled it around, gently tugging it away from Jethro's body, which resulted in a needy whimper he definitely needed to hear again.

After repeating this torture several times, Tony grinned when he heard it. “Please… Tony…. Just….Please…”

He pulled back and Jethro groaned, “please what, Jethro?” He was in control for now, and he intended to relish every moment.

Jethro growled at him, but Tony just continued lazily stroking and looked at him expectantly. When he pulled his fingers off and ran the backs of his nails across Jethro's sensitive skin, he hissed and closed his eyes. “Damnit Tony, I need to cum!”

“I liked it better when you asked nicely.” Tony figured he’d pay for this later, but he knew he’d get what he wanted. He gently wriggled his fingers around Jethro's balls, and pressed against the point behind them that made Jethro's muscles tense and his cock drip and twitch.

“Fuck, Tony...Please... please make me cum…” Jethro was shaking and so hard his cock was somewhere between a dark magenta and purple in color, veins throbbing, and Tony licked his lips.

“I can do that.” He leaned back to his target and released his hold on the shaft. He took Jethro deep into his throat and steadied himself with one hand on Jethro's thigh. His other hand was squeezing Jethro's balls and pressing behind them, and within seconds he felt them pull up and Jethro's dick swelled in his mouth. He swallowed hard as Jethro shouted a string of unintelligible words into the air and came hard, sending thick cum down Tony's throat and into his mouth. There was a lot, and Tony couldn't catch it all, and he caught Jethro's eyes as he used his thumb to clean up his face, then pulled his over-sensitive cock back into his mouth to finish the job.

Shaking and panting, Jethro tried to redress himself, but Tony shoved his hands back to his chest and arranged his clothing for him. “Still need the slings,” He said, “I'm just now figuring out how to get you to shut up about it.”

Jethro nodded, but reached for Tony's pants. Tony grabbed his hand, “I'm serious. Slings.” He was painfully hard, but he knew that there wasn't much Jethro could do to help him without hurting himself. He could wait until he got into the shower.

“Tony…” Jethro slid his arms into the slings and looked at him, “we gonna talk about how you're not sleeping?”

That helped deflate things a bit, “I'd rather not.”

“Want some company tonight? If it'd help, that is…” Jethro was wading into unfamiliar territory. Any relationship he'd had since Shannon had been only about sex, but he felt like he needed to keep Tony safe, even from his own nightmares. “You're punishing yourself too.”

Tony sighed. He admitted it, and nodded. “Couldn't hurt. Thanks.” This time, their kiss wasn't rough or needy, it was so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've skipped ahead and ignored work for a bit. We'll get back there, but smut first! Next chapter too!


	58. Thursday+8 0800

Jethro woke with a groan. Mornings were the worst. He was stiff and sore, and he’d worn the slings to bed, but he didn't want to get up to stretch. Not just yet. He angled his hand to stroke Tony's hair. His head was leaning on his chest, an arm thrown across his waist, his leg draped across Jethro's. He had starfished during the night, then curled close, only shifting when Jethro let out a pained grunt. His nightmares were bad, and Jethro had winced when he shouted Kate’s name, but he’d stilled with Jethro's hushed comfort. Now, he was stirring and Jethro felt him tense up. “Stay.” He brushed Tony's hair behind his ear as he felt him squeeze closer. Slowly, Tony relaxed and Jethro couldn't stop the small sound from his throat when he shifted and brushed his cock under the blanket.

“Mmm, I believe I promised two?” Tony murmured and slid his hand down Jethro's stomach.

“You don't have to...aaah..” Jethro jerked when Tony's hand brushed his cock and balls.

“I know. I want to.” He pushed Jethro's flannel pants down and flapped his hands when Jethro tried to help. “Let me.” Jethro lifted his hips and let Tony slide his pants down until they were tossed on the floor.

“I can't help...it’s not fair.” Jethro was frustrated, but Tony rolled his eyes.

“What makes you think I'm not helping me too?” He grinned at Jethro as he wiggled his hips and his silk pants joined the flannel ones and Tony crawled up between Jethro's thighs.

“Um...Tony?” Jethro swallowed as Tony loomed over him and reached into his nightstand for lube. “Not so sure…” he felt his erection slightly waning with nerves. What did he agree to? If Tony was just interested in fucking him…

“Shhh, I got you.” He leaned back and poured a generous dollop of lube into his palm and spread it along Jethro's length. “But tell me to stop and I stop. I mean it.” Jethro just panted and nodded. “Words, please…”

“Don't stop,” Jethro growled, throwing his head back  onto the pillow. Tony was stroking him slow and easy, and it wasn't enough. But then there was a tongue at his pulse point and he bucked his hips and cursed. Tony's hand never stopped, but his lips and tongue and teeth traveled across Jethro's throat, his jaw, then down to his chest below the slings. He left a trail between his pecs and swirled his tongue around his nipples until each was hard, and Jethro was almost,  _ almost  _ whimpering again.

Then, Tony stopped. Jethro groaned when he pulled his hand back, then gasped when he felt Tony’s hips lowering and their cocks brushed together. “You trust me?” Tony asked, sliding his hands and forearms beneath Jethro's shoulders. Unsure of what was going to happen, Jethro narrowed his eyes, but nodded once. He slipped one leg over Jethro's thigh, and suddenly, Tony flipped their positions, so Jethro was seated on Tony's thigh. “Move your leg,” Tony gestured to the opposite side, so Jethro could straddle Tony and balance easier without his arms. When he did that, Tony sat up and wrapped one arm around Jethro, supporting him, and the other hand drizzled more lube on both their cocks.

Tony grinned as Jethro hissed at the cold liquid, then sighed in pleasure as Tony warmed it with his hand, stroking slowly again. He shifted slightly until their cocks were lined up, and he gripped them both together. “Shit, yes…” Jethro was reduced to curses and single syllables as Tony stroked them and thrust into his hand and Jethro was thrusting, using Tony’s left hand and arm as support.

Jethro's brain went blank. He’d never done this before. He’d always treated his male lovers just like he would a female lover. It’s not that he was inattentive, and he’d given hand jobs before, but this...it wasn't two men having opposite roles, one doing the fucking, one being fucked, it was two equals sliding against each other, using their cocks to give each other pleasure, Tony’s thick flared head brushing against his foreskin, balls pressing together, Tony's hand a perfect pressure to keep them aligned and in contact no matter if their thrusts were timed together, or varied. Jethro felt the glide of skin, the slick of lube, and Tony's arm behind him, his hand splayed across his shoulder blade, and realized this was definitely more than just sex. It was  _ good _ sex. He wouldn't go so far as to say 'making love,’ not yet, but it wasn't just sex.

Tony's rhythm started to falter, and Jethro felt the hand on his back start to curl. There would likely be indents from his nails after they were done. Tony was no longer just humming in pleasure, he was moaning. He was calling out the names of all the Gods Jethro had ever heard of, and some he hadn't, and the raspy voice and sweaty brow brought Jethro closer and closer to the edge. “Tony... Jesus, Tony...fuck, don't stop...I'm so close...like that...yes... goddamnit…” Jethro panted the words, urging Tony to keep the pace, to thrust with him, until he felt Tony's hands tighten, his right clenching their cocks as Jethro felt Tony’s shaft swell with his release, his left pulling him close enough that Tony could latch his mouth onto his throat. His muffled yell and shaking arms were what did Jethro in. Feeling him lose control, feeling his release between them, Jethro shouted Tony's name to the sky and covered Tony's hand with his cum, mixing the two releases together with his shallow thrusting as he started to come down.

Tony's hand on his back relaxed, brushing his fingertips up and down Jethro's spine “wanna lie back?” He whispered, heavily, into Jethro's neck. He nodded, and Tony pulled him close and helped him maneuver onto the bed.

“I'm not an invalid, you know.” Jethro murmured.

“Humor me.” Tony said, as he slipped into the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth. When they were relatively clean, Tony pulled the sheets and blankets over their naked bodies and settled against Jethro again, sighing. “I need to tell you something.”

“This doesn't sound good.” Jethro’s brain was too hazy to spin out of control, maybe that was Tony's plan...he wanted to think of the worst thing that could follow that statement, but he couldn't. He probably couldn't change it anyway, so he let Tony continue.

“It might be good. It might be a lost cause. I was gonna wait until my lawyer got more progress, but I can't keep it from you anymore.”

Tony paused and Jethro interrupted, “this have something to do with the folder of notes on me stuck in with the cold cases?”

Tony shifted to meet Jethro's eyes. “The what?”

“I appreciate the effort. But I'm gonna vote for lost cause.” Jethro didn't want to get his hopes up.

Tony sighed,  _ of course he knows,  _ he thought, “don't give up just yet. Your records and conviction in Mexico were shoddy. I knew that, but until Fornell dug into your initial custody papers, I didn't know  _ how _ shoddy. Having the incorrect identity on your papers gives us an opening to overturn the conviction, or at least the sentence. Depending on the judge, they might just order the errors corrected and we’re back to square one,  _ or _ , about half the time, and especially depending on the person, judges will throw everything out. The work you've done here, the people you've saved, having a gaggle of federal agents to testify for you, and your father if you want, it could all go a long way towards tipping that scale.” He squeezed Jethro closer, “I got Ned out so easily, I wish I could do the same for you.”

Jethro let out the breath he didn't realize he’d been holding. “I do appreciate it. Even if it doesn't work.” He closed his eyes and relaxed onto the pillow.  _ Even if it doesn't work. _ Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if this stayed the same.

*****

Jethro finally made it through his 'sentence’ with the slings. It had been a month since his attack, and he was feeling better. Ducky had come over for lunch just as Tony and Ned were headed out. “Keep him out of trouble, Duck. And if there's any reason he needs those things longer,  _ tell me _ .”

“We will have a chat, Anthony, don't you worry. Now, take young Agent Dorneget here to go see his mother! Shoo!” Ducky shuffled his hands at them and Tony chuckled.

“Alright, I'm going.” He threw an arm awkwardly over Ned’s shoulder and pulled him out the door.

Ducky turned around and sighed.

“What?” Jethro asked, trying for an innocent look as he stretched his arms out in front of him.

“Let me look at you before you decide that you are back to 100%, please.” He motioned for Jethro to remove his shirt, and he hesitated.

“Can't you just do some range of motion stuff, Duck?” Ducky squinted, Jethro had never hesitated before.

“Possibly, but I'd like to examine the gunshot wound as well, and it is more difficult to feel the movement of the joint through fabric. What is wrong, Jethro?” He was instantly suspicious, “are you hiding something? I'm your physician, and if you are not recovering properly, I need to know as soon as possible.”

Jethro sighed and unbuttoned his shirt. Ducky smirked as it fell from his shoulders, “ah, I take it these marks were... consensual?” Jethro's collarbone was marked several times with bite marks and hickeys of varying degrees of color, one still an angry red and obviously very fresh. His forearms and waistline had fingertip size bruises, and while Jethro may have been a bit chagrined, he wasn't ashamed, which told Ducky they were not unwelcome.

“You should see the other guy,” Jethro's eyes glinted mischievously.

Ducky shook his head, “not just yet, his yearly physical isn't due for another two months.” It had been obvious that Anthony was fighting an attraction to Jethro, so he made the logical choice as to Jethro's partner.

A slow grin appeared on Jethro's face, “two months? I can work with that.”

“Oye, while I do appreciate your friendship and comfort level, I do believe there is such a thing as too much information. Now, sit so I can examine you.”

Jethro sat on the chair and let Ducky manipulate his joints, measure his range of motion, and their conversation turned back to the usual topics. Jethro's father's health, Jimmy's recovery, Celia, Abby's obsession with Ned, and of course, “Duck, when am I gonna be cleared for firearms cert?”

Ducky sighed. “Jethro, I don't want you jostling your joints more than you need to. Two weeks, IF Anthony approves the paperwork. And I doubt he’ll bribe easily, in fact, attempting that may backfire and cause him to delay, so my advice would be to take it easy, wear the slings when you can, or at least one at a time, do your exercises, and I will leave the rest up to Anthony.”

Jethro huffed in annoyance, but nodded. Two more weeks. “Field work?” He’d been on strict desk duty, Tony had let him remove the slings if he was at his desk doing paperwork or things on the computer.

“Modified, for now. Same as before. I know you were due to move more heavily into the field, but if we go too fast and you are injured again, recovery won't be guaranteed.”

Jethro nodded. “Understood. Now, rumor has it you've got yourself a lady friend?”

Ducky smiled at his friend as he put his shirt back on. “Ah, Abigail...she isn't known for keeping confidences, is she?” Jethro smirked, but Ducky continued, “as a matter of fact, she  _ was _ a lady friend, many years ago. Have I ever told you of my days in medical school?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muse is slipping a bit with making some of these too OOC, so I apologize for that, but we can pretend to chalk it up to a month of grief and tension and guilt...


	59. Sunday+9 1230

“So, um…when we get there…let me knock first…” Ned said, nervously.   
  
“Wait, you told her we’re coming, right? You told her what happened?” Tony didn’t like the fact that Ned wasn’t looking at him.   
  
“Um…well…I told them that I was coming…with a friend…” Ned said sheepishly.    
  
“Oh god, really? As if this isn’t hard enough for me?” Tony rolled his eyes and sighed, “You owe me.”   
  
Ned grimaced and then joked, “well, isn’t that what family’s for?”   
  
“Oh Jesus, if I was religious, I’d be praying for you right now. Biology isn’t working quite that well, Ned. Back me into a corner, and you’re right up there with my other friends on the firing line.” He tried to glare at Ned, but his face softened slightly and he shook his head. “You’re chicken.”   
  
“So are you! Otherwise you wouldn’t be so freaked right now!”   
  
“I have reason to be freaked! She’s YOUR mom, you know she won’t kick YOUR ass!” Tony WAS freaked. He couldn’t deny it. The last time he’d seen Marge...the look in her eyes...he never wanted to see that again.   
  
“It’ll be fine, Tony. I promise.” Ned rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder, patted twice, then set it back in his lap.   
  
Tony cleared his throat. He needed to change the subject. “How’s the apartment search going?”   
  
Ned laughed, “that eager to kick me out?”   
  
“My heart is breaking. I think it’s empty nest syndrome. My baby’s growing up.” Tony sniffled loudly, brushing fake tears from his cheeks. He grinned at Ned, loosening the tension, then continued, “No, I’m just checking. You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”   
  
“I know, but I've found a few. Unfortunately, not too many are willing to overlook the whole “25 years as a slave” thing. Credit checks and all that. They’re worried I won’t remember to pay the bill or something.” Ned looked downtrodden, and Tony got pissed again.   
  
“That’s bullshit. You’re a federal agent. If you’re trusted with catching criminals, why can’t they trust you to pay your damn rent?” He slammed a hand on the steering wheel.   
  
“It is what it is. Just because I’m free now, doesn’t mean I’m not still a ‘lower class’ citizen according to a lot of people. I’ll find something.”   
  
“Just don’t settle for something shitty, OK? Hell, if you need, I can move everything out of that office for a while and make it REALLY yours.”   
  
Ned flushed, “um, no offense, but it’s awkward enough since you and Jethro finally got over yourselves. I can’t even sit on the couch after the other night.” He shuddered as he remembered coming home from his date, finding Tony and Jethro lying on the couch naked, each licking the other’s cocks, and having almost zero shame when he squeaked and ran upstairs.   
  
“Hey, you were going on a date, I didn’t think you’d be home so soon!” Tony had the good sense to blush a little, at least, but then continued, “probably should stay away from the kitchen table, though.”   
  
“Oh GOD! Really? I dropped a piece of bacon on that table this morning! And then I ate it! I thought it was CLEAN!” Ned dropped his head back onto the seat and groaned.   
  
“We cleaned it.” Tony shrugged. “Speaking of…you’ve had a few dates with this Feeb…how’s that going?”   
  
“Really? You want to know about my sex life? Just because you’re WAY too comfortable with your own?” Ned stared at him   
  
“Sex life? Who said anything about sex life? I was asking about your dates…but if you’ve got a sex life, does that mean…?” Tony grinned   
  
“No, it does not mean…whatever you’re asking. It’s been three dates. The dates are good. That’s it.” Ned doesn’t kiss and tell. Not that he has much experience, but he’s decided he’s not the kind of guy to kiss and tell.   
  
“Yeah, but the third date is usually “the” date. If not to actually have sex, but to decide if you’re going there. So…” Tony waggled his eyebrows and Ned rolled his eyes.   
  
“You know, you’re totally acting the part of the creepy old dad right now. If I were 14, this might be considered normal teasing, but this is getting…creepy.” Ned snorted and looked out the window in a huff. Except his ears were burning. He really did want to take that step with Reid, but he was scared it would push him away. But he wasn’t talking to Tony about that. Maybe Abby. She'd been a tornado of friendly affection since he and Tony 'came out' at work.   
  
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. For now. I do actually care, you know. But really, don’t settle for a shitty place just because Jethro is too loud in bed…” Tony couldn’t help it. “I’ll tell him to be quieter.”   
  
Ned rolled his eyes, “I can tell it’s you, Tony. It’s a little hard to miss, and I doubt Jethro would scream his own name.” He sighed, “And besides, there’s one place that seems nice, and the owner is understanding so far. As long as I pay three months up front, she’ll probably give me the apartment. But that’s a lot.” He chewed his lip, it would probably take him another few paychecks to save that up, and by then the apartment would probably be gone.   
  
“If you need it, you got it Probie. I know you’re good for it.”   
  
“Tony, I wasn’t asking to borrow—“ Ned felt guilty. He wasn’t angling for money at all!   
  
“I know. But if it gets you out sooner so Jethro and I can christen my desk, then all the better.” He winked, making sure he was taking the pressure off Ned.   
  
Ned groaned, “Really? You’re awful. But thanks.”

  
*****

“Edward!” The older woman rushed through the screen door and hugged Ned tightly. “It's been far too long baby.” She pulled back and held him at arms length, then panicked. “Wait, where's your ID? It hasn't been 5 years, get inside before you get in trouble!” She yanked him inside before he could say anything. Tony smirked at the sheer hopelessness in his eyes before he caught his balance.

“Nan, no, it's ok, it's ok. I'm all legal, really.” He flipped open his badge and ID to show her. She squealed and hugged him tighter, and when he turned slightly, she froze.

“Ooh, is this your friend?” She held out her hand to Tony, who smiled brightly. When he took her hand, she pulled him into a hug too. He jumped when she smacked his ass, then she backed up. “Sweetheart, he is goooood lookin'. How long have you two been together?”

Tony gawked and Ned stumbled over his own foot as he followed Bella into the house. “Nan, I didn't… We're not…”

“Oh, you can't bullshit a bullshitter. Why else would you boys be such a pile of nerves?” She pulled a pie from the fridge and gestured to the table, “sit, have some pie.”

Ned immediately sat, and Tony sat next to him, kicking him under the table.

“So, boys,” Bella sat down with her own slice of pie and blatantly surveyed Tony. “Please tell me you're being safe...I doubt _he's_ a virgin…”

“Nan! Oh my god, stop! Where's mom?” Ned slapped a hand to his face.

“Running errands, you're over an hour early. Can't a grandmother interrogate the man who might someday become my grandson-in-law?”

Tony glared at Dorneget. “Ned.” He said, warningly.

“Hey,” Bella immediately dropped her fork on the table and glared at Tony, “is that how you talk to my grandson? Because I'll tell you right now, mister, just because I'm a slave, doesn't mean I don't know how to hide a body…”

Tony clenched his jaw. This was going well.

“Nan! We're not together! You haven't even asked his name!”

Bella sat back down, eyes still narrowed in Tony's direction, “so, tall dark and handsome, what's your name?”

“Can we wait for mom?” Ned's voice seemed to raise any half an octave,

“No. What's going on, Ned?” Bella turned her glare into Ned, and he cracked.

“This is Tony” Ned said, quietly.

Bella blinked in confusion for a second, but then reality started to sink in. Tony helped her out, and shakily croaked out, “Hey Miss Bella.”

He expected revulsion, yelling, at least some kind of tension, and he was prepared for almost anything. What he wasn't prepared for was a 60 year old woman crashing into him and pulling him into her arms, tears in her eyes. “Can it be? Is it really? Tony boy? Oh, god, the things they did, the things they made you do, and then he shipped you off like nothing, I was scared for you honey, for so long. Are you ok? Really ok?”

Tony swallowed hard and nodded, “Marge?”

Bella smiled, “she did ok. We all did ok, didn't we Ned?”

“We did.” Ned didn't respond, it was a woman. Tony knew who it was before he turned around, and he was right. There, in the doorway, was an older version of the teenager he'd befriended all those years ago. Befriended, and then betrayed. “Hey Tony.”

Tony didn't even notice Bella scooping up the groceries from Marguerite's hands and ushering Ned out of the room. “Hey. Uh...I thought Ned said I was coming, but... _ surprise _ !”

“He always said he was going to find you. I'm glad he did.” She came into the room and sat across from Tony.

“Marge, I'm so sorry.” Tony had told himself he would be strong. He knew, logically, this wasn't his fault. He was a kid, he thought he was doing the right thing. But seeing her here, even 26 years later, it broke his heart all over again. “I know Ned said you'd be OK, but...please forgive me? I couldn't let them hurt you, but I shouldn't have done it for them, y’know?”

“I know. I told Ned I never hated you, but that wasn't the truth. Until he was a little older, I did blame you. I was a kid, and I was scared, and I lumped you in with your father. Mom finally set me straight. You were younger than I was, of course you'd be their punching bag too. I wish I'd seen it before…” Marge sighed, “doesn't matter. At the end of the day, you gave me a son, and he’s amazing. And I notice he's not wearing ID?”

Tony cleared his throat, “yeah, when I found out, I got it on file with a blood test and cut off the collar. I know you're off the system, Joel did a good job, but I'd like to help you and your mom. Apparently I'm in the business of freeing slaves,” Tony chuckled nervously.

“One slave and it’s your business?” Marge raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, well, Ned’s is the only one that's done. I got one girl in contact with a friend who got her into a work program through his dual citizenship, and I'm working on another one now, so what's two more?” Tony wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

“That's very kind of you, Tony.” Bella was back with Ned and sat next to Marguerite. “But unnecessary. I'd like you to meet Steven;” she gestured toward the door where a senior gentleman stood.

“Hello, Tony. I appreciate your concern for my girls. And Bella told me about Ned, congrats son.”

“Thank you sir,” Ned’s head dipped when he addressed the man.

Steven came around the table and rested a hand on Bella’s shoulder, “We’ve finally finished the process. Bella and I are getting married.”

Ned’s eyes shot up, “wait, you and Steve? Nan, that's...is that legal?”

Tony was confused. Until he noticed Steve’s fingers tracing along Bella's green velvet collar. “You're her owner?”

“Was. As of three days ago, she is legally my fiancée.”

Tony's gut churned with the suggestion of impropriety, but Bella waved her hands at them all, “oh, down boys. Steve and I have been dancing around this for years. Ever since Melissa passed, we’ve been getting closer. Ned, you know Steve was never a typical owner, he always treated us like family. That's why Joel brought Margie here in the first place. It just took a while to get around the red tape and have him make an honest woman out of me.” She looked at the man with love in her eyes, and Tony settled.

“You're ok? Really? And Marge?”

Marguerite smiled, “we’re ok. I work in his store and he pays me well. I'm only living here because I came back after my husband died and I don't want to leave.”

Tony rested his head in his hands, “you're really ok with this?” He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. It was Ned.

“I told you we’ve had it pretty good. I mean, I didn't know Nan was…” he cleared his throat as he blushed in the general direction of the senior lovebirds, and continued, “but I think they're ok.”

Bella squeezed Steve's hand, then patted it. “Let's get dinner started. Boys?” She motioned to them to follow, and soon the small kitchen was crowded with 5 people laughing and throwing lumpy potatoes at each other.

*****

“Hey, how’d it go? Midnight snack?” Jethro asked as he sat his plate down on the kitchen table and held up his sandwich. It was his dinner, but he wasn't going to admit he’d lost track of time that badly, now that he was free to work in the basement unhindered.

Tony winked at Ned, who paled and took the stairs two at a time. “Guess he’s not hungry.”

“What did you  _ do _ ?” Jethro asked. The mischievous glint in Tony’s eye hadn't dissipated.

“I  _ may _ have given him the impression that we've had sex on that table.”

Jethro dropped his sandwich with a growl, “now that's something we’ll have to try when we get there.” He hadn't fucked Tony yet, but he damn sure wanted to. He sidled up to Tony and suddenly, the mischief was gone, replaced with sadness. “What’s going on?”

“She’s ok. Despite what I did, she’s ok.” Jethro wrapped an arm around Tony's waist, glad he was free of the godforsaken slings. “They worried about me. Why would they worry about me, after what happened?”

Jethro pulled Tony closer, “you were a kid. I'm sure they saw the truth.”

“Jethro,” Tony was shaking. He knew what he wanted, what he needed, but he didn't know how to ask. Jethro just held him. It was nice, but it wasn't what he needed. “I need something.”

Jethro inhaled deeply. “How? What should I do?” He knew what was coming.

“I don't even know right now, I just need to shut off for a while.” Tony’s eyes were pleading.

“Go upstairs. Get showered, then wait for me on the bed.” As Tony nodded and slipped from his grasp, Jethro took a deep breath.  _ “He needs to not think sometimes.” _ McGee's words rang in his head. But this wasn't like before. Tonight, Tony wasn't broken and in need of hand holding. He’d been hard and wanting when he told Jethro what he wanted.  _ “He’ll want to please you. He always felt like he didn't get enough praise as a kid, or even his early career, and sometimes he just wants to show you he’s good enough.” _

He still wasn't sure if he could do it when he ascended the stairs, but he was going to try.


	60. Sunday+9 2330

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No singing, sorry...I had plans, but the boys were horny. Basically, 3,000 words of smut with a vague plot purpose. Hope it's ok!

Jethro felt his body shudder as he reached for the doorknob. He knew what he would find. Tony, naked, waiting on the bed, hair damp from his shower, likely shaved and definitely hard. He didn't have any grand plans, but he’d give him what he needed.

“Kneel.” With one word, Tony leapt into action as Jethro began removing his shirt. He stepped in front of Tony and felt his cock begin to harden when Tony licked his lips in anticipation. “Strip me. No touching.”

Tony carefully lowered Jethro's knit pants, and the boxers underneath, pulling them gently over his feet. He pulled the socks off next and placed them all into the laundry. The act of undressing him was simple, but watching it unfold had made any hint of Jethro's erection disappear, it was a job he’d seen many a slave do for their master. His gut churned when he saw the disappointment in Tony's eyes as he returned to his position in front of Jethro. “You seem disappointed.”

Tony looked at him, wide-eyed, and swallowed.

“Tell me why.”

“You're not hard.” Tony whispered. Jethro knew that would be the response, and he already had a plan that would hopefully get his mind back to where he needed to be, not stuck in the past.

“That's _your_ job. Hands on your thighs, use your mouth.” He said, as he ran his fingers gently through Tony’s hair. That made Tony's cock twitch, and his eyes were full of hunger when he looked up at Jethro. That look easily started Jethro's blood pumping south again, and before he knew it, Tony's lips were wrapped around the head of his half hard cock.

Jethro forced himself to remain still, to let Tony do what he wanted. He kept one hand in Tony's hair, the other gripped his shoulder as Tony worshipped his cock. There was no other word to describe what Tony was doing right then. His hands were gripping his own thighs hard enough to bruise, his dick was hard and dripping precum, and he focused all that energy on the cock in front of him.

He’d taken Jethro deep at first, his half-hard form easily filling his mouth. He tightened his lips around the base and sucked hard, feeling Jethro swell instantly, then he swirled his tongue around the shaft as he slowly pulled back, quarter inch by quarter inch. He bobbed up and down a few times, then focused on the head, moaning at the feeling of Jethro's fingers tightening in his hair. He knew his assigned task of making Jethro hard was complete, but he wasn't going to stop until Jethro told him. He flicked the sensitive frenulum with the tip of his tongue, smiling at the slight tremor he felt from Jethro's thigh at his cheek. He let his lips rub along the sensitive ridge as he gently slid the foreskin back to reveal the shiny head. When he pulled almost all the way off, Jethro gasped at the cold air on his uncovered glans, but Tony kept going. He dipped his tongue into the slit and moaned again when he tasted Jethro's salty precum.

Just then, Jethro's hand tightened in his hair more, and pulled Tony back. He lapped quickly at the last drop of precum and smiled as the string stretched between them. Jethro groaned and leaned down to kiss him hard, tasting himself on Tony's tongue. “I presume you have... accessories?” His harsh whisper send chills down Tony's spine, and he nodded. “Where?”

Tony licked his lips, “box in the closet, bottom shelf,” he gestured to the walk-in directly behind him.

“Eyes front.” Jethro straightened and walked gracelessly to the closet, his erection bouncing in front of him until he reached a hand down to steady it. When he opened the door, he checked and sure enough, Tony hadn't moved to watch him. He found the box easily and felt himself deflating as he looked for something he could use. He dug past the paddles, the gags, the chained cuffs, and pulled out the black satin fabric Tony had bound him with early on. It was effective, but not harmful, and held no emotional connection to his past.

As he walked back to Tony, he stood behind him and just watched. He watched the man kneeling back on his heels, hands squeezing his thighs repeatedly, dick an angry red color it was so hard, but never taking his eyes off the spot directly in front of him. He slid the fabric over Tony's eyes without a word, then maneuvered his hands behind his back and bound them together with the same fabric. He then crossed the room and sat in the chair in the corner. “Come here.”

Tony stood slowly and followed Jethro's voice, until he felt Jethro's hand on his elbow, spinning him around until his back was facing him. His breathing sped up when he felt the click of a cap of lube, and then Jethro began maneuvering him to sit on his lap.

Jethro was hard again, just watching Tony's flushed body coming toward him. He slicked his cock, knowing Tony would be expecting to be fucked, then guided him to sit on his lap. He pushed his cock down between his thighs, then grabbed Tony's hips and slid him back until he was leaning back against his chest. He parted Tony’s cheeks enough that his cock could slide between them, making Tony gasp and shudder in his arms, then he clicked the lube again. He reached around to Tony's front and dropped the cool liquid onto his aching cock, then drizzled a line up his chest, drawing a whimper from Tony's lips.

“Don't cum until I say. Now show me how good you are, Tony. Make me cum.” Jethro whispered into his ear. And Tony started rocking his hips, letting Jethro's length slide between his cheeks, pushing back so it hit his balls. Jethro moaned at the feeling of Tony's freshly shaved sack hitting the sensitive tip of his cock, and Tony repeated it. Tony was just getting into a good rhythm when Jethro distracted him by sliding a hand through the lube and roughly pinching one of his nipples. He gasped and ground harder against Jethro, trying anything to speed up his release, because Tony wasn't going to last long if Jethro kept that up.

And keep it up he did. Jethro alternated hard pinches and flicks with soft slick touches across Tony's whole chest. He felt Tony's rhythm started to falter, and he clamped his hand hard around the base of Tony's stiff cock, making him arch and curse, “I _said,_ not until I say.” They both stilled for a few seconds, letting Tony come back from the edge, and then Tony started thrusting against Jethro in earnest, having no other way to bring his lover to his release. He wanted to touch him, wanted to kiss and lick and move together, but Jethro held tight and kept the position. He wanted the challenge.

Then he _really_ tortured him. Jethro returned one hand to Tony’s nipples, and with the other he began stroking Tony gently. Any time it seemed like he was getting close, Jethro would clamp down at his base and squeeze his balls tight, then return to stroking. Tony’s whimpers turned into squeaky begging moans that traveled right to Jethro's groin.

The closer Tony was to orgasm, the harder he moaned, the harder and faster he pistoned back and forth on Jethro's lap. He jerked and shook every time the head of Jethro's cock passed and pressed against his hole, but Jethro never pushed inside. Even though he wasn't prepped, Tony would have welcomed the intrusion, and began begging. “Please...please…”

“Please what?” Jethro managed to grunt out.

“Fuck me… Please… I can't hold on…” Tony's head was thrashing as Jethro clamped his orgasm back again.

“That would be too easy. You can do it,” Jethro purred into Tony's ear, spurring him on, “come on baby, make me cum.” Jethro released Tony's cock and nipples, Letting him focus on Jethro, “I know you can...fuck, you feel so good…” That praise made Tony moan and he ground against Jethro hard and fast, biting his lip every time he felt the cock sliding against his hole and into the back of his balls, and suddenly Jethro's hands were back on him, wrapped around his chest and he heard the jagged breathing that told him his lover was close. Tony grinned in satisfaction and kept his pace, until Jethro cried out, “Jesus, Tony...god yes...don't stop...keep going...aaah yes…”

When Jethro's orgasm subsided, Tony stopped and grinned at the feeling of Jethro's cock slowly sliding from its place between his cheeks. Quickly, it was replaced by something smaller and even harder. Jethro slid his arm between them and pushed his thumb inside Tony without warning. “I didn't say to stop. Lie back and cum for me.”

That was all the instruction Tony needed. Jethro's thumb was just long enough to hook and bump his prostate, and his hand returned to its loose hold on his cock. Tony writhed in Jethro's arms as the man assaulted him from both ends, and he quickly exploded in his hands with a shout.

Jethro pulled his hand from between them and brought both of his hands around to encircle Tony's waist. They sat together in the chair for a while, until Jethro patted Tony on the chest, “stand.”

Tony obeyed without a grumble, which would never have happened if he wasn't in this headspace, and Jethro led him to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and debated how to wash Tony. He chose to continue what they were doing, and helped him enter the shower, still bound. He washed him thoroughly, then untied his hands only and handed him the washcloth. “don't miss anything.”

Tony carefully ran the cloth over Jethro's front, and made sure to get his thighs and down his ass, in case the cum had dripped. When he was satisfied Jethro was clean, he rinsed and hung the washcloth on the bar in the shower. Jethro turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing two towels. He wrapped one around his own waist and pulled Tony from the shower and wrapped him in the other towel. Only then did he untie the black fabric from his eyes.

Even though they were still damp, Jethro pulled Tony into bed and curled against his back. “You were amazing.” He whispered. When Tony didn't respond, he kept going. “I've never cum like that before, pressed against you, feeling you twitch and respond every time I passed your hole or hit your balls. Nobody has ever done that for me. You're so good at everything you do to me. It’s amazing.”

Tony just pulled his arm tighter and curled closer, nodding at the praise and held tight until he drifted off to sleep.

*****

It was early. Too early. But something woke Tony, and when he shivered, he realized the blankets against him had shifted. He was alone, and the bed was cold. Immediately, he started panicking that Jethro had hated what they'd done. What he’d asked of him, and went to sleep in his own bed. Since they'd given in to their desires, they'd only spent the night apart if Jethro couldn't sleep and was uncomfortable with the slings. Tony poked his head into Jethro's room to find the bed still made. He heard the rough sound of a hand drill and sighed. Basement.

Jethro was putting the holes in the frame of the boat when he heard Tony coming. He sat the drill down and looked up as Tony hit the landing. “You ok?”

Jethro nodded, “why?”

“Because it's 4am and you're drilling holes in a boat…”

Jethro's shoulders dropped slightly, and he rolled them to hide his wince. “Couldn't sleep.”

“Feel guilty about doing it, or about liking it?” This was why Tony had been hesitant. With Jethro's past, he was surprised it had gone as far as it did.

Jethro closed his eyes and sighed. “Look, I'm not judging anyone for what they need or like in bed. But I don't get it. And yeah, I liked it. Just like…” he couldn't say it. He felt dirty. He picked up the drill and threw it at the workbench and slammed his palm on the boat frame. Which hurt. _Ow. Damnit_.

Tony stepped close and grabbed his hand. “It’s _nothing_ like what you went through. _Nothing_. You hear me? No matter what, if I said no, if I asked you to stop, you’d have stopped. I trusted you with that. What we did? That was 100% about trust. So no matter what it may have looked like on the outside, it is NOTHING like what you went through.” He kissed Jethro, breaking only to whisper to him, “I trust you...you're nothing like them...it was our choice…” and then he finally pulled back, grinning when he felt the stirring of Jethro's cock against his thigh, “and you made me cum so fucking hard, we’ve probably traumatized poor Ned permanently. Seriously, he might require counseling.”

[In truth, Jethro had given him earplugs and a melatonin when he went upstairs. Ned had slept through the whole thing.]

“I still don't get it. What's in it for you?” Jethro was curious why someone would willingly put themselves into the hands of another person like that.

“Trust. It’s exhilarating to know that you are totally trusting someone.” Tony ran his fingers along Jethro's collarbone and didn't think before the next phrase came out, “let me show you.” Immediately he worried he’d said the wrong thing, and he wanted to take it back. _Not like that...not like I tied you up before...not like I bent you over and…_ But he bit his tongue until he was sure he tasted blood.

“What?” Jethro felt the hair at the base of his skull rise at the thought.

Tony took a breath and explained, “look, not all my lovers have been into this. I've shown some of them just a small taste to give them an idea. Usually it didn't make them want anything other than vanilla, and that was ok, but...I can show you, if you want.” He knew it was easier with Jeanne, she didn't have the trust issues until after she found out his real name. Wendy had left him out of fear and disgust that he’d been with men. Maurice was intrigued, but they'd only played mildly before he moved on. Jethro would be difficult, but he had an idea. If he said…

“OK.”

“What?” Tony blinked in surprise.

“Let’s go before I change my mind.” He was brusque and stormed up the stairs in the hopes of hiding his nerves.

Tony hadn't meant this morning, but...he glanced at the tenting of his pants...not-so-little Tony was up for it! He forced himself to take the stairs one at a time. This may be second nature to him, but it was triggering territory for Jethro. The man had been raped repeatedly for nearly a decade, chained to a bed, maybe blindfolded. Tony had to make this about _him_.

He opened the door and Jethro was standing on the opposite side of the bed. “What now?”

It sounded like a challenge. Tony swallowed his comment about 'pushy bottoms’ and came around the bed and wrapped Jethro in his arms. “Now, I'm going to kiss you. And we’re going to get undressed. And you're going to get hard. Let’s get that far, shall we?”

Jethro growled and yanked Tony closer, but Tony stood firm and kept kissing him slowly. Jethro wanted to take control, but he’d asked Tony to show him. So Tony didn't cave. “Easy tiger. I got this. Relax.”

Soon, they were both naked on the bed, and Tony casually brushed his hand across Jethro's stomach. His skin twitched and he grunted as the muscle beneath Tony's fingernails contracted.

Tony pushed himself back onto his knees and caught Jethro's eyes. “Still yes?” Jethro nodded, but Tony crooked an eyebrow.

“ _Yes_ , Tony.” Jethro rolled his eyes. Although he _was_ grateful that Tony wasn't going forward without being sure. Tony crawled back off the bed and went for the closet.

When he returned, a pair of wide leather cuffs with a metal clasp in one hand, he crooked a finger, indicating Jethro should sit up. “These cuffs have a quick release. You freak out, don't want to wait for me to unclip you, this lever right here is easily caught by the middle or ring finger. You tell me to stop, I'll stop and click this myself. You tell me to wait, I'll stop what I'm doing, until you say it’s ok. You still on board?”

“Yes. Do it.” Jethro held out his hands like he used to, wrists together, palms up.

“Not like that.” Tony pressed his hands into his lap and pulled out the black satin blindfold from earlier and removed Jethro's sight. “lie back down.” he instructed. Jethro did, and Tony clipped one cuff around Jethro's arm, and he started to feel panic. Then something slick and warm was dropped onto his bound arm and shoulder and Tony started massaging him. Jethro still had one hand free, so he relaxed and let Tony work his way down his arm, focusing on his sore shoulder, then across his chest, down to his hip, his thigh, his calf, then his foot. When the left half of Jethro's body was jello, he felt his ankle being secured to the bed. Tony hesitated with the right ankle, gently rubbing the faint scar left from his slip in the shower. Then he carefully tied that foot down as well.

Jethro felt his breath coming faster and shallower as Tony massaged his way up his right side. When he’d finished squeezing and stroking each finger, Jethro clamped down on his panic. Tony felt it and laced their fingers together and placed the other hand on his chest, “I got you. Ok?”

“Will be.” Jethro whispered. Tony waited for him to say more, to tell him to stop or wait,. It he didn't. Tony gently guided Jethro's hand back toward the cuff attached to the headboard and clipped him in.

“I give you my word, I won't hurt you or penetrate you, no matter what I do.” Tony whispered into Jethro's ear as he drizzled more oil down Jethro's chest. Tony straddled Jethro’s hips and massaged his chest, stomach, and went back to his shoulders, until his heart rate was slow and even and if Tony didn't know better, he’d think he was asleep.

Then Tony slid himself down between Jethro's legs, and massaged his thighs, sliding his hands along their length and reaching beneath him to cup his ass. He repeated the motion, letting his thumbs slide slightly between Jethro's cheeks, or along the crease of his hip where thigh met belly. Tony smiled when Jethro's cock slowly started to take notice, and jumped when his thumb brushed his balls.

Then Tony shifted and as his hands slid back out from squeezing Jethro's perfectly round ass, he let one stop to cup his balls, squeezing gently and rolling them in his fingers. Jethro moaned and pulled at his bindings, but his erection was getting harder and twitching against his belly. Tony leaned down and took the head of his cock in his mouth, slowly sucking and licking until he had Jethro thrusting into his mouth and he tasted precum. He let his hands wander, rubbing Jethro's stomach, scraping his nails up and down his sides, running fingers through his crack and brushing his hole. When Jethro shuddered at the feeling of skin passing over the puckered skin, Tony repeated the action. As Jethro neared the edge, Tony stroked his balls, taint, and asshole in time with his rhythm on his cock, and grinned widely around the duck in his mouth when he heard it. The sound he'd been wanting to hear since their first time. Jethro was biting his lip, head turned to the side, and he was whimpering in need.

Tony didn't disappoint. This wasn't about keeping him on edge, so he plunged down on his dick, swallowing around the head, and fluttered his fingers across the twitching hole until he felt Jethro's balls draw up close and hot fluid pulse down his throat. He took it all, making sure he didn't pull off until Jethro was fully cleaned, and the first thing he did was release Jethro's right hand. Gently, he moved to his ankles, then his left hand, and pulled Jethro into his arms.

He wasn't all that surprised when Jethro wasn't responsive at first. For almost anyone else, that would have been just a hair's breadth above vanilla, but not for him. Jethro had just been bound and blindfolded and touched sexually, as he’d been before by his rapist, except this time he'd enjoyed it. Tony didn't say a word as he held him until he relaxed.

He didn't say a word when Jethro kissed him.

He didn't say a word when Jethro's hand slid against his skin and gripped his cock.

He didn't say a word when he was pushed onto his back and Jethro knelt over him, then leaned down to kiss him roughly. He let Jethro take him to his own release, fast and hard, using the massage oil as lube for his calloused hand.

“Maybe I get it. A little.” Jethro whispered into Tony's hair before they both fell asleep. One more hour and they had to be up for work.

44 minutes later, Tony’s cell rang. With a grumble, he chased it across the nightstand and answered the call. “DiNozzo.”

_“Mr. DiNozzo, it’s Gerald Jackson. I need you and Jethro at the court house by 11. We got a hearing time at 11:30.”_

Tony bolted upright, and Jethro grunted his displeasure at the cool air. “What? Today?”

_“Yeah, the judge had an opening. Good thing is, the judge is fair, and ex military, and has 2 kids, so we’ve got a good chance. She’s strict and doesn't usually overturn sentences, but she’s all about honor and respect, so from what you've said about Jethro, he might just win this woman over.”_

“Thanks. Three hours.” He shut his phone down and poked Jethro's ribs gently. “Suit up. We've got court.”


	61. Monday+9 0830

_“I’ve just gotten a call from the courts after I sent them the list of witnesses. The Slave Board has some to call as well, and I thought you should know. From what you’ve told me, you might want to prepare him.”_

Tony sat at his piano, ending his call with Gerald. He hadn’t expected this. Not at all. It was supposed to be just a quick hearing, a “yes” or “no” verdict. But NOOOO, they couldn’t have it that easy, could they?  
  
Tony had thought his father would leave him be. He’d forced him into this, just like he did a lot of things, why couldn’t he just back off? But no. His father was going to testify. He was bringing Fornell’s ex-wife Diane. And Carl. Fucking Carl.  
  
They still had almost 2 hours before they had to leave, Tony had just gotten out of the shower when Gerald called, and Jethro was still in there. Tony’s fingers stroked the keys, and he felt anger flooding through him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and started playing.

 

> _Like a small boat_  
>  _On the ocean_  
>  _Sending big waves_  
>  _Into motion_  
>  _Like how a single word_  
>  _Can make a heart open_  
>  _I might only have one match_  
>  _But I can make an explosion._

Ned stood at the top of the stairs and listened. Tony had told him he’d be in court, and why, so he’d called Abby for a ride. He leaned against the wall and thrust his hands inside his pockets to keep them from twitching with the music, and longed for the guitar he’d left with his mother. Neither his mom nor grandmother knew the first thing about music, so he guessed this was where his gift came from, although he’d never been confident enough to sing for anyone.

 

> _And all those things I didn’t say_  
>  _Wrecking balls inside my brain_  
>  _I will scream them loud tonight_  
>  _Can you hear my voice this time?_

Something was wrong. Tony’s voice was getting strained, he was hitting the keys harder than they needed to be, but Ned didn’t know what to do. 

 

> _This is my fight song_  
>  _Take back my life song_  
>  _Prove I’m alright song_  
>  _My power’s turned on_  
>  _Starting right now I’ll be strong_  
>  _I’ll play my fight song_  
>  _And I don’t really care if nobody else believes_  
>  _‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me._

Ned descended the stairs when he heard the shower stop running. He didn’t need to be caught eavesdropping by Jethro. Maybe he’d talk to Tony later. Quietly, he slipped into the entry, grabbed his coat, and left, clicking the door shut behind him just as Abby pulled up in front of the house.  
  
Inside, Jethro was toweling off when he heard the piano. It wasn’t a sad song…or a comforting song…it sounded angry. Angry wasn’t good. He pulled on his trunks and undershirt, then opened the door to listen as he headed for his closet to get the suit Tony had insisted he purchase.

 

 

> _Losing friends and I’m chasing sleep_  
>  _Everybody’s worried about me_  
>  _In too deep_  
>  _Say I’m in too deep_  
>  _And it’s been two years and I miss my home_  
>  _But there’s a fire burning in my bones_  
>  _Still believe_  
>  _Yeah, I still believe_

‘In too deep’…oh great. Jethro didn’t believe in coincidences, and Tony was angry. Something was up with the case. He pulled on his pants, socks, shoes, belt, and shirt, leaving the top few buttons open and the tie around his neck. He grabbed the jacket, still on its hanger, and headed down stairs as Tony kept singing.  
  
The last chorus was sung through gritted teeth, and Jethro watched as Tony hunched over the keys, angrily swaying to the music

 

> _This is my fight song_  
>  _Take back my life song_  
>  _Prove I’m alright song_  
>  _My power’s turned on_  
>  _Starting right now I’ll be strong_  
>  _I’ll play my fight song_  
>  _And I don’t really care if nobody else believes_  
>  _‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me_

He straightened and closed his eyes as he repeated the last line: 

 

> _Know I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me._

Jethro cleared his throat after a few moments, and Tony startled, then shook his head. “We’ve got to get there early.” He stood and crossed the room, taking Jethro’s tie in hand. “Let’s fancy you up a bit.” Jethro furrowed his brow when Tony started knotting his tie, but he indulged him. After tying a small, symmetrical knot, he saw Tony pull out a straight piece of gold with two balls at the end.  
  
“What the hell is that?” Jethro asked.  
  
Tony sighed in exasperation. “Seriously? You’ve never seen a tie bar? Think 1940s, 1950s, rat pack, “Mad Men,” high class men’s wear.” He poked the bar through the collar of Jethro’s shirt and slid it under the knot of the tie. He straightened Jethro’s tie again and patted his chest, but wouldn’t look him in the eye.  
  
“What’s going on, Tony?”  
  
“Bad news. The Board is challenging our motion. They’re presenting witnesses.” Tony ground his teeth together in anger, but continued, “I’m guessing my father is behind this too. Bastard.”  
  
Jethro’s stomach turned, “what witnesses?”  
  
“Well, dear old dad is top on the list. Next is Diane Sterling, now Diane Fornell.” Jethro cursed and went to grab his phone to call Tobias, but Tony stopped him, “That’s not the worst.”  
  
Jethro clicked the phone closed and he narrowed his eyes, “who?”  
  
Tony settled a hand on his shoulder firmly, inhaled deeply, and said, “Carl.”  
  
Jethro’s phone shot across the room and shattered against the door. Tony grabbed Jethro tighter before he started punching hard objects and injuring his hands on top of the still-healing shoulders. “Jethro, we’ll get through it. I promise. He can’t touch you, and if he does, I’ll shoot him in the courtroom if I have to. But you CAN’T hurt him. He won’t be there for our testimonies, and he’ll be forced to leave after his own, and I know he’ll try and get you to act out, to attack him, but you CAN’T. Please, look at me.” Jethro’s eyes were wide in anger and panic and all his muscles were prepared for fight or flight, but he heard Tony’s words and raised his face slightly to meet Tony’s. “You can do this. I’ll be right next to you, and when Gerald is brought up to speed, he’ll keep this under control. I know you want him dead. For what he does to his slaves, not just you, but this whole hearing is to decide if you’re a danger to society. He’s a rich owner, and no matter what he says, if you attack him, you’re done. I promise you, we will dig into him as hard as we can. Abby and McGee can find skeletons in ANYONE’S closet, and he seems like the kind of guy to have a lot of them. We’ll get him, but not today. Tell yourself that. You’re better than him. You always were, you always will be. Always.” Tony kept talking in a firm monotone, repeating himself until Jethro seemed like he was back from the edge and understood. “You with me?”  
  
Jethro nodded. “We’ll get him. Just not today.”  
  
Tony gave a half hearted smile and kissed Jethro lightly, then rushed to the hall closet. “Here, I was going to give you this for Christmas, but it’ll look good today.” He pulled out a long black overcoat. High quality wool, and definitely a departure from Jethro’s usual carhart or leather jackets.  
  
“You sure you didn’t buy this for you? Aside from the height, we’re pretty much the same size. It’s more your style.”  
  
Tony grinned and held it out to him, “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll let me borrow it sometimes.”  
  
Jethro rolled his eyes and stepped forward to take the coat. The pair grabbed their suit jackets to hang in the back of the car to avoid wrinkles, and headed toward the courthouse.

 

Gerald had finagled the use of a small conference room to go over the details of the case. “If there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable saying in front of each other, I need to know now. Because I need to know EVERYTHING and if I have to meet with you separately, we need to do that first. If you hold ANYTHING back, it could hurt the case.” Gerald narrowed his eyes at both men who shook their heads. “Good, let’s start with our side. Jethro, Tony has told me what he knows of your back story, and what has happened since, so why don’t you give me a quick rundown, and as unpleasant as it is, I need you to focus on your interactions with Diane and Carl.”  
  
Tony slid his hand onto Jethro’s thigh as he gave a down and dirty sequence of events, with Gerald nodding and writing furiously. When they got to the present, Gerald dropped his pen and covered his face with one hand. “OK. OK. So, considering it looks like the two of YOU have something going on, and I’m guessing your father knows about it to some extent, I think I know where they’re going with this. Normally, I’d advise you to keep your hands to yourself and NOT let the judge see this, but I’m going to take a chance. We have to head this off.”  
  
Tony grabbed Jethro’s thigh and leaned forward angrily, “what? What don’t we want the judge to see? That I support him? Is it because I’m not a woman?”  
  
Gerald waved his hands, “Shit, no, that doesn’t matter. There’s just a lot of people who try to get their slaves off the hook just because they’re sleeping together. No other reason why the person legally deserves their sentences shortened or vacated. So I like to avoid any hint of impropriety in all my cases, whether it’s going on or not. Judges sometimes look down on it, like it’s some kind of ‘Pretty woman’ syndrome. But we’re going to have to work with it here.”  
  
Tony sat back with a *hmph* and Jethro looked at Gerald. “Why?”  
  
With a sigh, Gerald read his notes out loud, “voluntary sexual contact with witness number 2 in exchange for favors. Involuntary sexual contact with witness number 3 and offered sexual favors in exchange for special treatment for others. Current sexual contact with owner.” He sat his notebook down and before Jethro could blow a gasket, he continued, “THAT’S where they’re going. It’s bullshit, but that’s their play, I’m sure of it. They’ll claim that you’re giving Tony sex in exchange for Tony getting you out, and that’s the only reason Tony is here. We’ve got an hour. I need to talk to the other witnesses, and get myself prepared, but you two need to present a united front. I don’t care how early on in this relationship you are, but you damn well better act like an old married couple still besotted with each other when we go in there. If we can throw them off their claim, we can get the focus back on YOU and why you deserve to be Free.”  
  
Jethro and Tony nodded as Gerald stood and called McGee into the room.  
  
“What’s he doing here?” Jethro asked, and Tony realized he hadn’t filled him in on exactly who was going to be there.  
  
“Tim’s a certified trainer, he’s testified at a lot of hearings over the years—parole and resentencing, mostly, and that’s kindof what this will run like. He’s got a good reputation with the Board too, so he knows the kinds of things they’ll ask. Nobody knows about my previous relationship with him, so he’ll be testifying as impartially as possible, since he was…” Tony winced… ”listed as your trainer.”  
  
“What?!” Jethro growled at Tony.  
  
“I needed to put someone down, since my father had scheduled retraining and you were already flagged, and I asked Tim to do it on paper only,” Tony explained. “He’s going to lie for you. It won’t be easy for you to hear, but he’s smart as hell and he’ll make it believable. He could go to jail for this, so don’t be hard on him. I never thought he’d have to do this, he’s freaked out enough as it is.”  
  
Tim. Actually freaked out. That was something Jethro wanted to see. “Who else?”  
  
“Ducky, just about the medical aspects of your history and your current condition as a result of your takedown of Ari. Vance, as your direct supervisor who isn’t a party to this case, to testify on your professional assessment. And L.J. as a personal reference prior to your conviction.”  
  
Jethro inhaled sharply. “He can’t know what happened…” His father didn’t know anything about what he’d gone through. He was old, his heart couldn’t handle it.  
  
“He’ll only be in the courtroom during his own testimony. Your dad too. They’re due here any minute, and your dad fought tooth and nail to sit with you, but Gerald convinced them to stay out here after he found out about the other witnesses.” Tony tried to help Jethro calm his nerves. “If they don’t get here before we go in, we’ll at least have lunch with them.”  
  
Jethro nodded, “and after all this bullshit, I still could end up back at square one.”  
  
“yeah. But you also might end up driving _this_  baby home.” Jethro turned and instinctively snatched the flying object out of the air as he heard his father’s voice. He looked down and saw a set of keys on an old leather keychain with the Marine logo.  
  
“Dad!” He pulled the older man into a tight embrace, then held him back, “you drove the Challenger all the way here?”  
  
Jackson grinned, “and loved every second of it. Promise me you’ll take your old man for a spin now and then when this shindig is over?”  
  
Jethro laughed, and Gerald called L.J. into the conference room before he could even say hello. Soon, the doors opened, and Jethro and Tony were waved into the courtroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the sizes of the photos...still getting the hang of posting images!
> 
> So, in my searching for a male cover of this song, I found this guy. He sings almost exactly how I'd picture Tony's voice. Here's his rendition:
> 
> <https://youtu.be/xpW0EAxrE_o>


	62. Monday+9 1135

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some OOC stuff--Gibbs uses a lot of words! Lots of dialogue for this and the next chapters. I hope it's clear who is speaking.
> 
> 63 has angst, fluff, AND smut!

Judge Khanam had ordered everyone except Tony, Jethro, Gerald, and the Slave Board’s lawyer seated and was reading through the case notes. She looked up and folded her hands. “Mr. Gibbs, are you fully aware of why you are here today?”  
  
“Yes Ma’am.”  
  
“Can you tell me, in your own words?”  
  
“Objection, your honor—“ the Board lawyer, Tom, broke in, “this is against protocol. We should be starting with opening statements before speaking with witnesses.”  
  
“Tom, there is no protocol here.” She narrowed her eyes. “Clerical errors simply open a door to let a judge decide the course of action. And I want to hear this man speak.” She nodded at Jethro, “Please…”  
  
Jethro cleared his throat and recited the rehearsed words, “Ma’am, I am requesting that my current status as a branded slave be reconsidered, due to the grievous errors on my registry. According to the United States, I am legally a Missing Person as well as an AWOL Marine Gunnery Seargent. I would like to address those AWOL charges in a military court and regain my status as a Free citizen.”  
  
The judge nodded, “what were your charges?”  
  
“Murder in the First Degree, Ma’am.” Jethro kept his chin up, his hands clasped in front of him. The woman was military, he treated her just as he would a C.O.  
  
“Did you do it?”  
  
Gerald started to object, but Jethro responded, “Yes Ma’am.”   
  
She tilted her head to the side and leaned back in her chair. “Well, normally I get a “no” right off the bat, but I respect your honesty. Why?”  
  
Tom broke in again, “Your honor, the reasoning behind the crime is irrelevant, he has just admitted to first degree murder, I think we can close this case right now and go home!”  
  
The judge glared at him. “Can it, Tom. This is my hearing, I’ll ask what I want to ask.” She looked back to Jethro who nodded slightly.  
  
“I was a sniper stationed in Afghanistan. Our convoy was hit with an IED, and I was in a coma. When I returned home, my wife and daughter had been killed by a drug dealer, and even though NIS knew who he was, they couldn’t get him because he’d fled to Mexico. So I went to Mexico, I tailed him until he was alone in the desert and nobody else would get hurt, and I put a bullet between his eyes.” His voice didn’t waver, he didn’t make excuses, he told her the facts. Gerald closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that this would work.  
  
“Would you do it again?” The judge asked.  
  
“I’d rather catch him before he left US soil and have him strapped down for a lethal injection. But barring that, yes, I would.”   
  
Gerald groaned in his head. Great, the guy was admitting he would kill again. No WAY are they winning now.   
  
Tom burst in with a similar sentiment. “He’s a danger to society! He just admitted to killing someone, and that he would do it again! Why are we even still here?!”   
  
The judge ignored him. “And if he’d killed someone else’s family?”   
  
“No ma’am. I’d wish death on him, but if he were out of our reach at NCIS, it’s not my fight.”

She nodded and had them sit down, asking Gerald to call his first witness. Vance was convincing, and Tom had nothing to go on in cross-examination. He commended Jethro for his determination, instincts, and dependability, and he insisted he’d have much more of an impact as a Free employee than a slave.

Next came Dr. Mallard, who tried to accurately describe the lengths to which Jethro went to save first himself/Kate/Jimmy, and then Ned, from Ari. He also described his physical condition when he first came to NCIS.

“You gave Agent Gibbs his initial physical examination, is that correct?” Gerald asked.

“Yes. I am a medical examiner, but I also am still licensed to practice as a physician and act as such for many of the agents at NCIS.”

“And how would you describe his condition at that time?”

“I felt that most of his previous wounds were healed, although some rather poorly, and he was fit for duty.”

“When you say 'previous wounds,’ what do you mean?”

Jethro inhaled deeply and settled his eyes on the desk in front of him. He sensed that this was the point in the hearing where they try to make the judge feel sorry for him.

“Agent Gibbs has been a slave for just over 15 years. Those years, and owners, have not been kind to him. I found massive tissue damage to his entire back as a result of flogging and refusal of medical care from approximately 13 years ago,” he was going to continue, but Gerald interrupted.

“That would be when he was owned by the Sterlings?”

“Yes. I also found deep tissue scarring on his wrists and ankles, as well as other evidence of prolonged repeat abuse involving sexual trauma.”

“And was this from the same time period?”

Ducky closed his eyes and shook his head, “no, this appeared to be from approximately 4 to 10 years old.”

“You said other evidence? Please explain.”

Ducky looked at Jethro apologetically, but Jethro just nodded in acceptance. “I found evidence of scarring in and around his genitals and rectum that suggest severe trauma and long term sexual abuse including forcible penetration.”

“Could that have been caused by consensual activities?”

“The pain and bleeding would have been unbearable. I cannot imagine how anyone could have dealt with it and remained conscious, much less consented. No, it is my belief that Agent Gibbs was abused, physically and sexually, for several years, and some of the injuries he sustained could have very well killed him.”

Tony’s fingers laced with Jethro's and he smiled supportively, trying to still the tension he saw coursing through Jethro's body. The judge crooked an eyebrow at the gesture, but neither lawyer noticed.

Ducky left the stand and it was McGee's turn. Jethro sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. This was gonna be rich.

Mcgee kept his story as close to the truth as possible in the beginning, and then simple but with just enough detail to be believable. He’d been called by his superior about a slave he'd been given as a ‘gift’, he’d helped Tony retrofit his basement, he’d met with Jethro the first day, and set up a training plan. Tony had set restrictions on the types of discipline to be used, and what was to be expected of him.

“And, Agent McGee, before working with Agent Gibbs in a professional manner, what was your opinion of him personally and in training?”

“Stubborn. Opinionated. Resentful.”

Gibbs didn't respond, but he gripped Tony's hand harder. Tim was right, of course, but this was starting to sound like an argument  _ against _ his freedom.

“Was he ever overtly violent or aggressive?”

“Not to me or Agent DiNozzo.” Jethro held his breath. Everything else had been stretching the truth, but that was a lie. He remembered feeling Tony slip into unconsciousness in his arms as Tim continued. “Before his application to NCIS, he made the choice to take down an assailant that was prepared to kill Agent DiNozzo. He could have escaped, but he chose to save his owner. His aggression has only ever been directed at people in self defense and defense of others.”

“In your opinion, why was he sent for retraining?”

“Pride, sir. Agent Gibbs is someone who deserves respect, and he knows it. He is fiercely protective of those around him, and that threatens most owners. He doesn't tolerate abuse if given half a chance, and was conditioned to expect it from his owners. He didn't truly need 'training,’ he needed respect.”

“What is your current assessment of Agent Gibbs?”

“As a trainer or as a co-worker?”

“Both.”

“As a trainer, I am confident he will do what is best for his owner, and works well with Agent DiNozzo. They pair well together. For another owner with the view that slaves are lower class citizens, he would likely have problems. As a co-worker, I trust Agent Jethro Gibbs with my life, and I hope he would trust me the same, even after the issues we dealt with in the beginning.”

Jethro looked up and met his eyes, then nodded. Maybe he wasn't a fan of McGee personally yet, but he’d trust the kid to have his six.

Then, after Tom tried to drag McGee's specialty (intimacy training) into the mix, but was easily shot down, the judge called for a 15 minute recess. Gerald pulled Tony and Jethro aside, “I hate to put you in this spot, but I'll need to ask you about your relationship on the stand. I need you to be completely open about that, ok? I've got to hit the head, so talk if you need to.” He left and Tony looked concerned.

“What does he mean, ‘be completely open’? Haven't we been?”

Jethro crooked his lip into a slight smile, “I think he wants us to tell the judge we’re more than just fucking.”

Tony flushed and rubbed the back of his neck, “um...are we?” He felt his heart beating hard in his chest.

Jethro stroked a thumb across Tony's knuckles, “Tony, if I'd wanted you for just fucking, I'd have done it a lot sooner. Remember Diane? Two days. That's how long I waited.”

Tony watched Jethro's thumb move to rubbing slow circles on the back of his hand and nodded, “ok. So...the truth then…”

Jethro just smiled and nodded, then kissed Tony gently. He wasn't even sure what they had, but it was definitely more than fucking. And when Tony's hand brushed his cheek, he felt its heat spread straight into his chest. He opened his eyes and looked right into the green ones in front of him and was surprised to see... _ it couldn't be. _ Tony was just worried about the case, it was concern. Mutual affection. He leaned back as Tony stood and went toward the bathroom and closed his eyes, thinking of Shannon. What would she say right now?

_ “Get your head out of your ass, Leroy.” _

He heard the words she’d said to him so many times in their marriage and smiled. Most of the time she was completely justified. She'd have liked Tony, he knew she would, but the look in his eyes had hit him like a ton of bricks. Tony hid a lot of himself from the world, but for some reason, after just over 2 months, he was looking into Jethro's eyes as if he was in love. Old, crotchety, broken, scarred,  _ slave _ Jethro. Tony was falling in love with him, and was probably going to say that on the stand. Jethro cringed when he imagined Shannon again, hands on her hips, looking at him like he was being incredibly stupid.

As always, she was right. Jethro stood and followed Tony to the bathroom.

Tony splashed water on his face and looked at his reflection. Five more minutes. Then they'd listen to LJ talk, then it was his turn. They'd ask him how he felt about all of this. How he felt about Jethro. He heard the door creak open and he turned to the paper towels.

“I'm a bastard.” Jethro was behind him and put a hand on his shoulder to spin him around. “And normally, I wouldn't say something like this. Not for another couple months, at least, cuz I'm not ready for it. And I probably won't say it for a long time after this. But they're gonna ask, and I wanted to tell you in private first.” Tony gaped a bit at Jethro's rushed confession, “I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you. Hell, I might even love you.” It wasn't sweet, heartfelt, or passionate, it was...awkward. Jethro actually looked awkward, and he hated feeling awkward.

Tony hugged his stiff shoulders “thank God, cuz I didn't want to be the only one…” He slid his whole body against Jethro's and kissed his ear as he continued, “I'm pretty sure I love you too.”

LJ took the stand and awed the judge with his love and affection for young Leroy. He and Jackson had lost touch after his mom died, but that didn't stop the letters and care packages when he joined the Marines, or the photo exchanges and phone calls and baby gifts as his family grew. Tom tried to bring up Jethro's treatment as a slave, but before he could voice any of the atrocities, Gerald objected.

“Your honor, as far as this man was concerned, Jethro was missing and presumed dead, the treatment he received or his actions as a slave have no relevance to this witness.”

The judge nodded, “unless you have anything else to add, the witness may step down.”

Then it was Tony's turn. Jethro would be last. The questions were fairly sequential. Beginning with the events of that first day.

“My father is a manipulator. He knows I oppose slavery, and he forced me to choose one of the slaves he had purchased the day before. If I didn't, he would have chosen one for me. And if I didn't take them, he would have had them killed.”

“What made you choose Jethro?”

“The others had purpose in my father's house. I felt bad leaving them, but I knew they'd be ok. Not great, but ok. Jethro was slated for hard labor, and that has always been where he was thrown, and I knew he was more than that. I saw his strength and pride and honor and knew he could never be ok as a slave, much less doing field work or masonry or roofing. He’s a Marine, I couldn't let him live like that.”

“You oppose slavery, yet, that same day, you  _ purchased _ another of your father's slaves?”

Tony nodded. “Celia. My father threatened her, and assaulted her in front of me. I knew Dr. Mallard would treat her well, and I chose to remove her from my father’s home.”

“Back to Agent Gibbs. You chose someone who used to practice as an intimacy trainer to register as his assigned trainer? Is that something you desired from him?”

Tony shook his head, “no. I chose Tim because he’s my second in command and I know I can trust him to follow whatever restrictions I set forth. Sex slavery disgusts me, and Tim knows that.”

The questions continued, going through their early struggles, how Jethro saved his life, and their casework together. Eventually, they circled back to the elephant in the room. “Agent DiNozzo, how would you describe your current relationship with Agent Gibbs?”

Tony fidgeted in his seat. “We are... intimate.”

“You said earlier that sex slavery was abhorrent…”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, “it's not like that. He’s a good man, obviously attractive, good at his job, incredibly loyal, smart as a whip, and I fell for him here,” he pointed to his head, “before anything ever happened physically. I fought it for a while too, I never intended to be with a slave like that.”

“And why is that?”

Tony knew this was important. It set the stage to discredit his father's testimony. He still didn't have to like it. “When I was a child, my father forced me to witness, and one time participate in, the sexual abuse of his slaves. From then on, I firmly believed I'd never touch another slave again. If someone owns you, how can you say 'no’ if you don't want it?”

“And yet you are 'intimate’ with Jethro, even after your father's abuse?”

“It still bothers me sometimes. He asked me if he looked like someone who wouldn't say 'no', but I worry. Look, he’s a good man, and I fell for him. Hell, I love him. The fact that he’s a slave only affects me if I'm thinking about my own past.”

The affirmation struck Jethro harder than he expected, and the judge noticed the unexpected flush to his ears as Tony was talking about him. She filed it all away.

“Is that why you are here today? To free the man you love?”

Tony furrowed his brow and thought about that. “Well, yes. I'm here because the man with whom I happen to be in a relationship deserves his freedom.”

“Let me rephrase, are you here as some kind of testament to your love, or some kind of repayment? Or to assuage your guilt over sleeping with a slave?”

Tony shook his head, “no. No. I've known from the first time I read his file that this man did not deserve to live as a slave. I've been working hard to that end since then, and what happened between us had no bearing on that.”

After a few follow up questions, it was Jethro's turn on the stand. Gerald started his questioning easy enough. Name, rank, details of the shoddy trial, all facts that could have been read off a paper. But quickly, he attacked what he believed would be the Board’s assertion. “Agent Gibbs, have you ever used sex to earn favor with your owners?”   
  
“Yes.”    
  
“Can you elaborate?”    
  
“When I first came back to the US and was sold to the Sterlings, I noticed that the middle daughter, Diane, was similar in age and seemed to enjoy watching me work. After she began flirting with me, touching me, and making comments which should not be repeated in this court room, I decided to follow her lead. I had hoped that she intended to follow through on her suggestions that my ownership be transferred to her, so she could take me off the main estate, but when her father discovered our affair, she claimed I seduced her and planned to escape.”   
  
“And what happened when he found out?”   
  
Jethro slowly stood and unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it and his jacket down his sleeves. Tom objected, but Jethro continued, and pulled his undershirt over his head. Then he turned and showed the court his back. Raised scars crossed his back, some faint marks, some knotted and stretched awkwardly over his muscles. The judge hid her disgust and motioned for Jethro to put his clothing back on as Gerald continued.   
  
“Have you ever overtly volunteered yourself, sexually, to gain special favors for yourself or others?”   
  
Jethro sat, still buttoning his shirt, and clenched his jaw. “to protect them.”   
  
“Please…” Gerald gently encouraged him to continue.   
  
“My second owner was a sadist. He enjoyed hurting and torturing people who couldn’t fight back. Usually that meant young girls, and sometimes boys. Usually slaves, but sometimes Free. And sometimes, if one of us tried to protect the young ones, he’d take great pleasure in ‘breaking’ us. I never let him break me, not totally. I stood up for those kids. And eventually, I would tell him to take me instead of them. So if that counts as offering myself, then yeah, I did, and I’d do it again if it kept his hands off someone else.”   
  
“And Agent DiNozzo? How would you say your time with him began?”   
  
“I wasn’t going to let some rich kid order me around. I knew he was being manipulated by his father, and he felt guilty owning me. So I purposely provoked him in small ways, in the hopes that he would snap and his guilt would push him to have me put down so I wouldn't have to deal with being a slave anymore.”   
  
“Small ways?”   
  
Jethro thought of his small rebellions—ignoring the largest—and cocked an eyebrow in mild amusement, “moving as he shaved me, picking cuff locks, eye contact, things like that.”

“And when did your opinion on the situation change?”   
  
Jethro swallowed and he touched the scar hidden beneath his slightly-longer-than-normal hair. “When we were attacked by men who confessed to being sent by his father. Agent DiNozzo took a risk with me, and we were outside together.” ( _ Not a lie _ ). “We were attacked, and Agent DiNozzo risked his life to save me, but the assailant had a weapon. I neutralized that man, but another was hidden in the brush. Agent DiNozzo took control of the situation and was able to get me to a hospital for medical treatment. We worked together, as equals, and I realized that I trusted he wouldn’t just let them kill me. I haven’t trusted anyone in any capacity for a long time.”   
  
Gerald continued with some questions regarding the investigation into Anthony DiNozzo Senior’s involvement in the assault, Jethro’s employment and certification at NCIS, the Ari situation, his interactions with McGee, and more, and just like he’d done with Tony, he came back to their relationship.   
  
“Agent Gibbs, you said you trust Agent DiNozzo, is that correct?”   
  
Jethro nodded, “Yes.”   
  
“How else would you describe your feelings toward him?”   
  
Jethro didn’t  _ DO _ feelings. His nose twitched slightly as if he were smelling something he didn’t like, but he was honest. “I have feelings for him.” His chest tightened a little when he saw a flicker of disappointment in Tony’s eyes, but he wasn’t about to say the “L” word on the stand unless he had to.   
  
“Have you had feelings for others since you’ve been a slave? Comparable to this?”   
  
Jethro inhaled and answered truthfully. “I’ve taken lovers before, men and women, but no. I’ve never felt like this. Not since..” He swallowed… “Not since my wife was killed. I’m not a ‘feelings’ kind of guy, but yeah, if I had to say it…I’m falling in love with him.”   
  
Tony tried to be nonchalant in his reaction, but Jethro couldn't help rolling his eyes a little at the smirk on his face.  _ I'm testifying for my freedom, and he's gloating. Smartass. _

Soon enough, Jethro returned to his seat and the judge called for another recess before Tom called his witnesses. Tony kissed his forehead and they went outside to get some air. Unfortunately, as they stood on the steps chatting with Gerald, Tony spotted his father with some men in suits (his lawyers he presumed), a somewhat frightened looking redhead woman, and an older black man. He wrapped an arm around Jethro's shoulders and kept him facing away from the door.

“What the hell, Tony?” Jethro growled, feeling his grip tighten uncomfortably.

“Just...trust me, ok?” Tony couldn't handle a confrontation right then, and if his blood was boiling, he couldn't imagine what Jethro's would do. Plus, they hadn't eaten yet. Add being hangry to the situation, and this could get bloody.

Jethro heard the bite in Tony’s voice and nodded. It wasn't about obeying, it was trusting him that he was right. When he saw the flash of fiery hair pass through the doors out of the corner of his eye, he knew. “They're here?”

Tony would have been breathing fire if it was humanly possible, and he nodded.

“Give them a few minutes to get settled before we go in, ok?” Gerald suggested. He sighed gratefully when a short man in a too-big trenchcoat arrived with a plastic bag.

“Subs. Not as good as Chinese, but God knows I couldn't deal with my ex-wife on an empty stomach” Fornell said as he passed out the paper wrapped sandwiches. “And I'll hold you two back. She may be impossible, but she IS the mother of my child, so…” he shrugged and took a big bite from his sandwich.

Tony and Jethro weren't hungry, Jethro was verging on nauseous, but going into this with low blood sugar would be bad. 


	63. Monday+9 1445

Senior was charming, all smiles, feigning a flirtatious blush at the judge as he was seated. Everyone but Jethro was concerned—he was a con man, known for fooling everyone around him. But Jethro saw the veiled disgust behind the judge’s eyes. She was trained to remain neutral, no matter her feelings, and she let Tom egg him on. Tony’s hands were clammy as Senior talked about his ‘concern’ for his ‘inexperienced’ son, having a ‘poorly trained’ and previously violent slave in his home. He tried to claim that his goons were simply observing the house for trouble, and they were attacked by Jethro for no reason. He denied ever knowing how strong Tony’s aversion to slavery was, he simply wanted to present his son with a ‘gift’ since he got such a good deal. He claimed to have suggested intimacy training for Jethro AND Celia, and that Tony was interested, and that he’d hoped Celia would make him some cute dark skinned grandbabies. He outright denied any involvement in the sexual assault of his slaves, and Tony’s grip on Jethro’s thigh tightened hard enough he’d probably have bruises. Quickly, he scratched a note onto a scrap of paper and slid it to Gerald.  
  
“ _He doesn’t know about Ned.”_  
  
Gerald nodded and, not taking his eyes off the proceedings, scribbled back, “ _Up 2 you. Will mother testify if nec_?” They shouldn’t have to dig this deep into Tony’s background in a hearing for Jethro, but if Tom took it that far, Gerald would go with it. Tony nodded in response. Soon, Gerald stood for the cross examination.  
  
“Mr. DiNozzo, you claim you did not know of your son’s aversion to slavery. Yet you have sent repeated emails and text messages harassing him for such views, is that correct?”   
  
Senior stumbled over his words, “well, it was just a joke. He never owned anyone, I just thought he was being a pussy about it. He’s a little” he wiggled his hand back and forth in front of him.  
  
“Sir,” Gerald said, sternly, “please use words.”  
  
“He’s a little queer. I figured he was just too soft to handle a slave so I picked on him for it. No big deal.”   
  
“So why would you think it was a positive thing to force him to take a slave? Or to molest a slave in front of him?”   
  
“Because the boy’s a disgrace to the family. He needs to man up and take charge.”  
  
Gerald coolly stood in front of Senior and looked puzzled. “He heads one of the most highly specialized investigative teams in the federal government…how much more should he take charge?”   
  
Senior sputtered, so Gerald continued, “From my paperwork, I see that you were the one to file the complaint that resulted in this contested hearing, and the calling of the other two witnesses, am I correct?”   
  
THIS, Senior thought he could handle. He could get this back on track. “Yes! Absolutely! The man is dangerous, and should be in shackles, not gallivanting around playing cops and robbers! He’s going to get my boy killed!”   
  
Gerald nodded, “You’re concerned that Agent Gibbs is out in public unshackled, as he has gotten special permission to be today, yet you are not concerned about the home situation?”   
  
“Well, of course…He could…He’s trained…” Senior looked to his lawyers for support, but they couldn’t help. He was digging himself a deeper hole.   
  
“And the other two witnesses being called, how did you know they might have any relevant information?”   
  
Tom tried to signal to Senior to stop—the court documents stated nothing about who suggested the witnesses, Gerald was fishing. But Senior was too far gone to pay attention to anyone else, he only thought of saving his own skin. “His last owner. This slave helped HALF of his cohorts escape from his last residence, and they had to sell the rest of them because they couldn’t prove who did it! It cost his son his position. He was devastated. He told me all about the history of this man, and I couldn’t believe the manipulation he puts people through. He pretends to be some high n mighty saint, but he’s lower than dirt!”   
  
This time, Jethro had to tuck his arm over Tony’s—half in support, half in restraint. He could feel the quivering of Tony’s thigh that told him just how close he was to exploding, but there wasn’t much he could do about it except hope Gerald would be done soon.   
  
“Lower than dirt? Is that how you feel about all of your slaves?”   
  
“No! Of course not! They’re like family!”   
  
Tony huffed in disbelief. Then again, given the way Senior treated his family, he wouldn’t be surprised if he actually thought that way.  
  
“And are you in the habit of raping your ‘family’? Biological or slave?”   
  
Senior balked at the word ‘rape.’ He narrowed his eyes and tried to go for threatening, but Gerald wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. “Now see here, I’ve never raped anyone. If I have sex with a slave, that’s my right as their owner. And I NEVER raped my boy.”   
  
Gerald pulled a paper out of the folder on his desk and read it over, letting Senior stew for a bit. Then he straightened and continued his questioning just as Tom started to stand and object. “Mr. DiNozzo, are you aware that, by forcing a minor to perform a sex act with another minor, not only are you guilty of rape, but of pedophilia as well?”   
  
Senior’s face turned beet red and he glared at Tony, “What the fuck, Junior?! What lies are you spreading? You liked that girl! I just HELPED you! It was our RIGHT as their owners!” Jethro’s hand clamped on Tony’s arm before he stood, and Senior continued, “And I see it didn’t help at all, you’re still a pussy. Should’ve known you’d like being on your back. A whore, just like your mother, and this dog has you whipped.”   
  
Jethro dug his fingers into Tony’s arm hard enough they’d definitely bruise. To keep him anchored to his seat, and to keep Jethro grounded too. He wanted to rip this man’s throat from his body for the way he treated his son. But at least he’d admitted to pushing the assault, and Gerald hadn’t needed to bring Ned into it. Tony had worked hard to keep Ned’s connection hidden from his father, and they’d prefer to keep it that way.   
  
Gerald slowly, quietly, asked, “And THAT’S why you’re here? Because you don’t want some jarhead screwing your boy?”   
  
Senior finally lost it. He snapped, “Damn straight! My boy should have a beautiful young woman on his arm, not some washed up soldier slave! He’s not worth the cost of shackles! I’d have him put down myself if I could! And believe me, I’ve tried!”  
  
Gerald smiled as he turned back to his seat. “No further questions.”  


*****

“Mrs. Fornell, how did you meet Agent Gibbs?”

Diane fidgeted in her seat and glanced repeatedly between Senior and her ex husband. “He was purchased by my father.”

“And how long did it take before he attempted to seduce you?”

She touched her forehead and bit her lip, “um... I think...maybe a couple of days?”

Jethro felt Tony's fingers twitching on his thigh, and then they slid to the small of his back, rubbing small circles on the area that was mostly free from significant scarring.

“And did you find him attractive?”

Diane blushed, “well, of course.”

“So, it is safe to assume that his attention was welcome?”

Diane nodded, “yes. I liked him.”

“As you became intimate, did he lead you to believe your relationship would grow into something greater?”

Now it was Jethro's time to fidget. He’d whispered plenty of sweet nothings to Diane. He may not have loved her, but he’d have been willing to fake it if she wanted and if it meant he could lead a normal life again. If it hadn't been for the beatings, he’d feel guilty for leading her on.

“Yes. He even suggested we might get married. Have children. If only he wasn't a slave.”

“Your words, or his?”

Diane paused, “um...his…”

Jethro scribbled a note to Gerald,  _ “both” _ Gerald nodded in understanding.

Tom continued, “so, this man was taking advantage of your attraction to him in the hopes that you would free him?”

Diane squirmed through the whole testimony. Jethro scribbled more notes, but the most important one was  _ “She’s being pressured. She wasn't this fidgety when she lied to her father. This is more than that.” _

Finally it was Gerald’s turn. He had thought about Jethro's note and decided to play this nice, but firm, for now. Right off the bat, he asked, “so, stop me if I'm wrong, ok? You found a young Marine attractive. He found you attractive. You began sleeping together. And  _ you _ never mentioned anything about marriage or children?”

Diane flushed, “well, in passing maybe?”

“And you never once lamented that he was a slave? Not even if you were talking about your father?”

“Well, maybe, but mostly he talked about it…”

“Did he ever once ask you to do anything unscrupulous? Ever ask for any special favors?”

Diane hung her head, “no.”

“Mrs. Fornell, you've been acting nothing but guilty up here, may I ask why?”

Diane would have shot lasers from her eyes if she could have. “What?”

Gerald coolly explained, “I talk to people all day long, and you, ma’am, are acting guilty. Why?”

Diane sighed and stopped checking with Senior's entourage for answers. She glanced at Jethro and said, “because it’s my fault. I let my father hurt him because I was afraid of getting in trouble.” She pouted now, and glared a little, “and yeah, I did talk about marriage and kids with him. He never asked for a damn thing. But I could tell he’d never love me so I just wanted Daddy to get rid of him.”

Gerald continued for a little while, eventually making Senior and his cohorts red with anger, and when she was dismissed, Jethro looked at Tony, who whispered to Gerald, “can we keep eyes on her?” Fornell heard that and swept from the room. He’d seen the intimidation written on her face. Maybe she was a selfish vindictive bitch, but he wouldn't leave Emily without a mother if they decided she was a liability.

By this point, it was dinnertime. Judge Khanam stood and recessed until the morning, where they’d hear from Carl, then she would issue her decision.

The first thing Jethro did when he got home was shower. Soon after the hot water began pouring over his skin, he heard Tony slip into the room. “Want company?” He asked, quietly. Jethro leaned his hands on the wall in front of him, hung his head in the stream, and didn't respond. Tony stripped and stepped behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. They stood like that for a while, until Tony released one arm to grab the shower gel. He poured some on his hand and began massaging Jethro's back, focusing on the knotted muscles, gliding his fingers across the scars gently, not ignoring them, just accepting them as a part of his lover. Jethro groaned and melted into Tony's touch--no one had touched him this way since he earned those scars, and it felt good.

Tony’s hands dipped lower, but Jethro tensed. He could feel Tony’s arousal against his thigh, and he hated his physical reaction to that, but he couldn't help it. “Tony…” he stepped forward just a bit, but Tony followed.

“Just a massage, ok?” It was like Tony read his mind. “Can't help that I think you're hot.” Jethro snorted and shook his head as Tony slid his hands back along his skin, from ass to neck, finding every knot along the way.

Tony’s hands were almost as skilled at massage as they were at the piano or guitar. Soon, Jethro forgot about everything except the feeling of firm hands sliding across his skin and manipulating his muscles and sore joints. He forgot about the fact that they were naked and in the shower, until he felt the weight and balance between his legs shift and he realized how hard he was. Tony had likely noticed as well, and he started dropping chaste, light kisses onto Jethro’s shoulders and the back of his neck until Jethro spun around in his arms. He took control of the kisses, pushing Tony back against the cold tile and making him gasp at the contact. Tony dropped his hands to Jethro’s hips and let Jethro take what he needed. Today was bad, but tomorrow would be worse, and Tony just wanted tonight to be a respite.    
  
Finally, when the water started to run cold, the pair rinsed quickly and hopped out of the shower, laughing as Tony slipped and fell into Jethro. The mood had gone from tense and somber to downright jovial and juvenile, with snapping of towels and squirting of lotion (Tony had informed Jethro of his sensitive skin. Jethro rolled his eyes, but enjoyed rubbing him down anyway). As they made their way into the bedroom, kissing and nipping and smacking and tickling, Jethro stopped. He caught sight of them in the mirror on the dresser and looked back at Tony seriously. “Help me forget. Just for tonight. I won’t let him be the only person who…” he paused. He hated asking. He felt like an angsty teenager, but he couldn’t get the words out. “Look, I know it can be good. And if you make it good, then he won’t affect me as much. I hope.”   
  
Tony cupped his face and spared him from explaining. “how much do you want, Jethro?”   
  
Jethro thought about it. He wanted to chase the memories away, but the thought of Tony fucking him was too much. Not tonight. Not for a long time. “One finger. Maybe two, we’ll see.” Tony nodded and smiled, kissing the corners of his mouth until they turned up in a crooked grin.   
  
Filing Jethro’s request away until later, Tony turned up the heat. He spun Jethro toward the bed, but didn’t push Jethro down. He turned them so he fell first, pulling Jethro on top of him. As Jethro returned from his dark thoughts of earlier, they began wrestling for dominance, rolling on the bed, kissing, sucking, biting, even some actual wrestling moves they’d been working on at the gym. Their bodies slid together first from the dampness of the shower, then from the sheen of sweat they’d worked up from exertion. Tony groaned when Jethro pinned him and pulled his hands above his head, holding him down with just one hand and straddling his thighs. Tony thrust one hip up, testing Jethro’s hold, and it was strong. It wouldn’t be easy to get out of this one without actually ending their fun. As Tony was working on angling his foot into a better position to get leverage, Jethro spit into his palm and grasped both of their cocks. Tony’s head fell back and he moaned at the tightness wrapped around him, and the slide of Jethro’s skin against his. “Cheater,” he hissed, as Jethro jerked him just a little too slowly.   
  
“Nope. Just using my opponent’s weaknesses.” Jethro’s grin was smug, and Tony let himself get lost in the feeling for a few minutes.    
  
When he felt Jethro’s grip on his wrists weaken, and his pace speed up, Tony took advantage. He got his foot underneath him and flipped them, landing between Jethro’s thighs, and immediately pressing his mouth to Jethro’s throat, right below his ear. Jethro growled at first, then groaned when Tony sat up and spit into his own palm, adding to the slickness around their cocks. He moved his hand with Jethro’s slowly stroking, occasionally spinning around their heads, making Jethro’s foreskin twist and lightly tug on his frenulum. Tony was a little jealous he was circumcised, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. “Don’t stop,” he instructed, and reached for the nightstand drawer. Given his distraction, it took him a few moments to fumble through and pull out the lube, but once he poured some into Jethro’s hand, both men shuddered at the change. Jethro groaned and didn’t notice that Tony had covered his own hand liberally, until he leaned over and captured one of Jethro’s nipples in his mouth and slipped a finger along his crease.    
  
Jethro’s pace faltered, but Tony whispered around the hard nub between his teeth. “Don’t think. Trust me. Let it go.”   
  
Tony didn’t go any farther than stroking Jethro’s ass, and soon he was back to grunting and groaning and squeezing their cocks together. Every time Tony pressed a little further, he felt Jethro soften slightly, but everything else was so intense, he recovered faster each time. Until finally, his finger was brushing Jethro’s hole over and over again. The fluttering motion was reflected in a twitch in Jethro’s thigh, and suddenly, Jethro released Tony’s cock and clamped down on the base of his own, arching his back and cursing through gritted teeth as he stopped his release. Tony licked and ran his lips across his oversensitive nipples as he came back from the edge, then ran his tongue down to lap at the precum that had pooled on Jethro’s belly and was dripping from his cock. “Jesus, Tony, you keep that up…”    
  
Tony looked up at Jethro and, as if it were a dare, slid his tongue along Jethro’s swollen head and drew just one more droplet of precum from his slit. “Keep it up…and…?” He asked, cheekily.    
  
Jethro groaned, “get back up here.” He grabbed the lube that had been tossed by his hip and coated his hand again to avoid getting sticky, and resumed what he’d been doing, shuddering at how close he still was. “Now, Tony.” He said, squeezing them both hard and jerking fast to distract him from Tony’s finger sliding inside of him.    
  
Instinctively, he tensed, clamping down painfully on Tony’s finger, but Tony didn’t complain. “Don’t stop, I got you.” He thrusted slightly in Jethro’s hand that had stilled, and licked a long stripe from Jethro’s collarbone to his throat. He slowly twisted his finger and swirled it in circles, letting Jethro feel the movement without pushing further in. Quickly, he saw Jethro start to slip out of his thoughts again and begin stroking and moaning beneath him. With this encouragement, Tony pushed in deeper and aimed right for the firm gland he knew would make him forget the events of the day. The second he felt it beneath his finger, Jethro arched and moaned, and his hand started pumping faster and harder.   
  
Tony slid his finger in and out of Jethro’s tight hole, bumping his prostate on every pass, until Jethro was panting, “More, Tony. More.” Tony pulled out of Jethro and slowly pushed two fingers past the tight ring of muscle, smiling again when Jethro started whimpering and thrusting against his fingers.    
  
Tony kept his composure until he felt Jethro tightening around his fingers, and his grip was uneven and shaky. “Come on baby, cum for me,” he said, thrusting into Jethro’s hand, letting Jethro feel the thrusts timed with his fingers, and just when he thought he couldn’t hold on any longer, Jethro’s legs straightened, Tony’s fingers were crushed together, and thick ribbons of white flew from his cock, egged on by Tony’s fingers pushing against his prostate and rocking his hips against his cock.    
  
Watching Jethro lose control, feeling him tighten around his fingers and his cock, threw Tony over the edge, and his cum joined Jethro’s, spilling over his hand and belly and chest as Tony pulled his fingers gently from Jethro’s ass. Before he could get up, Tony pressed a hand to Jethro’s shoulder and took his fingers into his mouth. One by one, cleaning him of the evidence of their release. He swallowed his softening cock, and ran his tongue and lips across his groin, the crook of his thigh, up his belly and chest, and finally licked the final drop from just under Jethro’s chin. With hunger in his eyes again, Jethro pulled him down and kissed him hard, savoring their mixed taste on Tony’s tongue, then pushed Tony back and deftly sucked down on Tony’s cock, licking and sucking and rolling him around in his mouth until Tony tapped his head and pulled back, “too sensitive!” he rolled away giggling as Jethro chased him, a wicked grin on his face.

“I'll miss this,” Tony said, curling up to Jethro after their 5 minute shower.

“Miss what?” Jethro asked, pulling back to look at his lover with concern as he ran his fingers gently across his chest and stomach.

“This. I'm selfish, I know, but I've gotten used to having you to myself. We’ve defaulted to spending nights together just because of the living arrangements. When you're Free and have your own place…” Tony felt stupid. With anyone else it took weeks or months before he spent the night, but he’d taken Jethro's position for granted. And now he would probably be moving out as fast as he could, and Tony was attached.

Jethro stroked his hair, “honestly, I haven't thought about that. You want me out?”

Tony thought about it. “Part of me says no. I want you here so we can do  _ this _ . But I want you to be happy. You haven't had your own place in a long time, you deserve it.”

Jethro nodded. He knew it would be his choice. “I'm not sure. Might not be an issue anyway.”

Tony brought a hand up and tapped the back of Jethro's head, “Stop. This will work.”

“If you say so.” Jethro ruffled Tony’s hair and kissed his forehead. Free or not, he could get used to this, even if Tony insisted on using fruity shampoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have put so much more detail into their testimonies, but you'll have to use your imagination. Muse's eyes started to cross, so she moved on to the smut.


	64. Tuesday+9 0530

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real Life has been kicking my butt, and my chapter with Carl is not coming out how I'm wanting it. So I give you smut to tide you over ;)

Tony moaned as his dream heated up. He was an Egyptian prince with a harem of nubile concubines, male and female, and three of them were pleasuring him in an incredibly real sensation of hot mouth on sensitive cock. And then he felt teeth and startled awake.

“Shiiiiiiit” he exclaimed when he looked down and saw Jethro’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock, the slight scrape of teeth on his shaft dragging him to consciousness. Jethro just smiled and hummed in response, a sensation that Tony felt more than heard. Tony let his head fall back on the pillow and his hand reached down to strike Jethro's hair. He wanted so badly to grip it between his fingers and thrust into Jethro's throat, but the second his hips moved, Jethro's muscled forearm landed across his hipbones and kept him pinned to the bed.

“Damnit, Jethro…” Tony squirmed in pleasure and mumbled at his lover until he felt Jethro's hand on his cheek. When he looked down, Jethro slid two fingers into his mouth. Tony sucked on them, hard and sloppy, getting them nice and wet, and groaned when they were pulled back. His disappointment didn't last long, however, as Jethro pressed both fingers deep into Tony, faster than normal, and he cried out at the burn that quickly turned to pleasure when Jethro began rubbing his prostate.

“Jethro...oh God...Yes, there...don't stop…” Tony panted and begged and prayed that Jethro wasn't going to keep him on edge. He was so close…”close...Jesus...Jethro!” As he came, Jethro released his hips and let Tony fuck his mouth as he thrust into Tony’s ass, carrying him even higher than he’d been the night before.

As Tony came down, and Jethro swiped the spit from his balls and ass, Tony reached for him. “C’mere.”

Jethro grinned evilly, “I will. You need a break first.”

Tony nodded and slowed his breathing, letting Jethro gently stroke him until his cock started twitching valiantly, trying for a second round. Only then did Jethro sit up and straddle his hips. Tony kept his hands where Jethro had pinned them and whimpered at the feeling of Jethro sliding his ass across Tony’s half hard cock. It would take a lot longer to get him hard enough to fuck, but maybe that was the point. Jethro wanted to feel, but fucking wasn't in the cards.

As Jethro's movements started getting irregular, he slid up until he was close enough for Tony to take him into his mouth. He leaned forward and let Tony lap at his head, and he rested his hands on the headboard and his head on his arm. “Damn, Tony, love how you do that.” His cock was hard and aching, but Tony just kept playing with him with his tongue, letting him jerk and dance away, just waiting until his cock returned so he could repeat the process. Finally, Jethro had been teased enough, and he pressed his hips down, thrusting slowly into Tony's hot mouth. He groaned as Tony continued, pulling him further into his throat, and swallowed around the head. As he thrust into Tony's mouth, he felt the familiar tingling low in his gut, and suddenly Tony reached up and pushed him back.

“Wha?” Jethro gasped at the cool air and loss of sensation and shuddered.

Tony stretched and wrapped his hand around Jethro's neck, pulling him back down into a kiss. Jethro froze when he felt Tony's now fully hard cock pressing against his ass as he slid back down, but Tony didn't stop. He kissed Jethro and let him feel just how much he was wanted. His other hand reached down and pulled his dick forward, so it was settled like it had been before, sliding between Jethro's cheeks and hitting his balls as Tony thrust. They kissed and writhed together as Tony inched closer to his second release, then he stopped.

“Jethro... I want you inside me. Please.” Tony whispered into Jethro's ear, then slid his tongue along the sensitive lobe and sucked hard on his neck beneath it. Jethro pulled a hand between them, but Tony shook his head, “just go slow, I'll be fine, I need you now. Please, Jethro...”

Jethro moaned at the thought and had to lean back and control his breathing to come back from the edge. He wasn't a damn teenager, he wasn't going to cum just from hearing someone beg. When he looked up at Tony's dishevelled appearance and red face, he couldn't wait. He slicked himself quickly and pushed into Tony in a slow, but steady thrust. Tony’s hands fisted the sheets and he keened and threw his head back at the burn and the pleasure his body was trying to balance. When he came back to himself, he saw Jethro above him, shoulders quivering from holding himself steady, sweat beading on his brow, and he immediately bucked his hips in invitation.

Jethro leaned down on his elbows, letting some of his weight rest on Tony, but not squashing him. He thrust slow and deep, wanting it to last, keeping eye contact with Tony, until Tony's kisses turned feral. “Damnit, Jethro,” Tony whined, “fuck me like you mean it!”

Jethro grinned and pulled out slower than before, “yeah? You sure about that?” He’d given Tony sweet and loving, but if he wanted it hard…

Tony rolled his eyes, “yes. Fuck me, Jethro.”

Jethro’s crooked grin stayed in place as he leisurely pushed back into the tight ass beneath him, not nearly as deep as before. Partially, he wanted to tease, just a little. But part of him needed to pull back, if he was going to give Tony what he wanted. “You want to cum on just my cock? For your second time?”

Tony bit his lip and nodded, wriggling his hips.

Jethro pulled back out, so slow he was sure Tony barely felt it. “Is that a challenge?”

It was Tony's turn to grin. Jethro was competitive, he knew that. He’d never back down from a challenge like this. “Make me cum, Jethro. Just your cock in my ass.”

Jethro let his cock slide out of Tony completely, and Tony whimpered and pouted, until he saw Jethro grab the lube again. Jethro poured a liberal amount on his fingers and thrust them into Tony, ensuring he was slicked on the inside, before covering his cock again. Tony knew what was coming just a half second before Jethro thrust into him, hard and fast, almost slamming him into the headboard. Tony shouted and cursed, surprised at how much it burned, even after they'd just stopped. But he wanted it to burn, he wanted to feel Jethro inside him all day, to know that no matter what happened he had  _ this _ . He had someone who wanted him, faults and all. And he wanted Jethro to let go, to lose control with him and know he was wanted just as much.

And let go he did. Jethro drove into him, nailing his prostate almost every pass. He pinched and flicked Tony's nipples, leaned down and sucked hard on his neck, marking him, and growled his name when he felt Tony's muscles begin to spasm again. “Cum for me...cum on my cock...fuck yes, Tony...let me hear you…”

Tony’s fingers dug into Jethro's back, avoiding the scars and marking him with bruises as he cried out Jethro's name over and over again and his body tensed, toppling over the edge. Jethro didn't slow his pace, if anything, the sight of Tony coming undone made him chase his own release harder and faster, until he gave one last thrust and spilled deep inside his lover.

When he could form coherent thoughts, Jethro started to panic. Tony was passed out next to him, not responding to his touch. “Tony? Tony?” He patted his stomach, stroked his face, and as a last resort, raked his fingernails up his softened shaft.

The last movement evoked a shudder and Tony's hands flapped at Jethro in refusal. “Too much…” he whispered with a giggle.

Jethro sighed in relief, and he brought his hands back to Tony's side. “You ok? I didn't hurt you, did I?”

Tony smiled, still not opening his eyes, “'s a good hurt,” he slurred, and patted Jethro's hand, “now, sleep. Twenty minutes. Then shower.”

Jethro checked the clock, and sure enough, they had about half an hour before they really needed to get moving. He slid an arm under Tony's head and pulled him close, avoiding the mess that was slowly drying on his chest.

*****

“I’m moving tonight.” Ned declared, as soon as Tony and Jethro came down the stairs. “It was supposed to be in a week, but I cleared it with the landlord this morning. Could I borrow your car, Tony?”

Tony shrugged, “sure, we can help load and unload too. Everything ok?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Ned yawned, “I need sleep. You two apparently don't. It doesn't make for a good roommate situation.” Ned’s complexion had gone from red to slightly green.

Tony snickered, “and what about your Feeb? You sure you don't want  _ him _ keeping you up at night?”

Ned rolled his eyes, “oh God. We’re taking it slow... unlike some people.”

Tony nodded. Now he felt bad, Ned was actually annoyed. Ok, he didn't feel TOO bad. He still was getting some pretty hot sex out of it. He shrugged and quickly reached up and wrapped an arm around Ned’s shoulders. “Well, if you ever need to chat about the birds and the bees...or, bees and the bees, in this case…or is it birds and birds? I never knew which was which...”

Ned wanted to be annoyed, but Tony’s grin just made him shake his head, “how come I’m the mature one here?”

Tony attempted to pull him into a headlock, but Ned’s footing was better and he slipped away easily. “Because I'm basically a man child. Ask anyone. You'll get used to it.”

A horn honked and Ned grabbed his go bag and jogged out the door. “Abby's here...I gotta go. Call me when you find out, ok, Jethro?”

Tony huffed in mock offense, “what am I, chopped liver?!”

Jethro snorted and waved, then grabbed his coat and tossed Tony his. “Let's kick some ass.”


	65. Tuesday+9 0900

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: foul language and discussion of violent rape and abuse. If that's not your thing, you can probably skip this chapter entirely, plot-wise.

Jethro glared at the man on the stand. He’d spent enough time being forced to look away that he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. If nothing else, he couldn't put his hands on Tony’s property, and as much as he hated being property, he could deal with it if it meant staring Carl down.

“Mr. Buford, you owned this slave the longest, am I correct?” Tom began, and Carl sneered.

“Yes. Although rumor has it he’s found another owner who will take him to bed, so I’m sure my record will be broken.”

Jethro felt Tony’s leg press against his own. They wouldn't give Carl the pleasure of seeing them uncomfortable.

“His claim is that he is not manipulating his owner in any way. Do you have reason to believe that is untrue?”

Gerald stood quickly, “objection, your honor. What this man may or may not believe is irrelevant to the case.”

Tom responded, “prior acts may be admissible if they relate directly to the case.”

The judge nodded at Tom, “I'll allow it, but you're on a tight leash counselor. Overruled.”

Carl smirked and leaned back in his seat. “Jethro knows he’s good looking, and he knows how to be what someone wants. He offered himself to me on many occasions in return for something he wanted. He liked it rough, and even if he didn't like it, he came back for more every time.”

“We’ve heard testimony that Jethro was not a willing participant, and that he was not attempting to bribe you or create a quid pro quo situation. What makes you certain you are correct?”

Now Carl’s smirk turned into a smug grin. “Do you know how many times he can cum in a row? Bleeding and screaming? Because I do.”

Tony felt the vomit rise in his throat and he was shaking in rage. But what scared him the most was the vacant look that came across Jethro's eyes. None of Tony's comforting touches were even registering, and Jethro just stared straight ahead. It was like he wasn't even there.

_ Jethro sat on the picnic blanket with his wife, both laughing at their daughter's astonished face. “Daddy! You brought SALAD? It’s a picnic!” _

_ “Yes, and we can eat vegetables on a picnic! It’ll help you grow big and strong.” He pulled Kelly into his lap and squeezed her tight. “You're gonna have to take care of me when I'm old and crotchety, you know.” _

_ Shannon snorted, “you're already crotchety.” _

_ “OK, fine, but I'm not old!” _

_ This was the best part of leave. Being home, being a family. He never wanted it to end. He always came back to this moment whenever things got bad, whenever he was scared he’d never see them again. No matter what was going on around him, the memory of this day would carry him through. _

Tony was on the edge of his chair, clenching and unclenching his fists as he listened to this worthless sack of skin talk about Jethro as though everything that happened was  _ his _ fault.

“Yes, he offered himself to me on a regular basis. Anytime I wanted someone younger, fresher, less used. Maybe he was jealous of the attention, but each time he promised more. Each time, he told me he could handle things the others couldn't, and that's why I should take him. I agreed, and gave him what he asked for. On one hand, I have to agree, he was right. What we did together was never surpassed by any others.” Carl got a wistful look on his face, and Gerald reached behind Jethro to grab Tony’s jacket as his body tensed. He’d been ready to leap across the table.

“And what did he receive in return for his attentions?”

“He got respite from chores, private living quarters, extra food, many things.”

“So, it is your contention that this man is simply adept at using what his owners need for his own benefit?”

“That's been my experience, yes. Maybe he was a good Marine before he killed that man, but he basically turned into a whore for whatever he wanted.”

Thankfully, before Gerald stood for cross examination, the judge called for a 20 minute recess. The courtroom cleared, but Jethro didn't budge. Tony waved Gerald out and just rested a hand on the small of Jethro's back, where he’d left bruises that morning. When they were alone and the room was quiet, he felt something shift under his hand. He knew how this worked, although usually he was helping someone come back to themselves after an intense night of consensual activities, not PTSD. He ran his fingers along the base of Jethro's spine, pressing gently where he knew it would send a slightly uncomfortable but  _ real _ reminder of the present.

Jethro leaned back against Tony's hand and placed his palms flat on the table, inhaling deeply. “You with me?” Tony asked, and he nodded. “We got 15 minutes...take a leak, whatever. You want coffee? Water?” He wasn't going to push anything, they still had to sit through cross examination, so Jethro didn't have to come all the way back.

“Both.”

Tony patted his hand and started to stand, but Jethro grabbed his arm tightly. Instead of getting the water and coffee himself, he stayed in his seat and texted Gerald to ask him to bring them when he returned. It was all well and good anyway, Carl might be out there.

*****

“Mr. Buford, when you say that Agent Gibbs was a willing participant, how did you know?”

Carl shrugged, “he just liked it rough. I like it rough. It fit.”

“He was a willing participant when you poured alcohol down his throat against his will until he couldn't stand? Or when you restrained him so tightly it left permanent scarring?”

“Hey, some people get off on pain. He certainly did.”

“So, because he orgasmed, that meant he wanted it?”

Carl snorted, “fuck yes. Can’t force a guy to cum.”

Gerald pulled a photo from his notes and slid it in front of Carl, “is that what you said to your sister six years ago when she was raped?”

Carl’s eyes shot up, “who the hell do you think you are? My sister has nothing to do with this!”

Gerald raised an eyebrow, and spoke before Tom could object, “witness opened the door, ma'am.”

“I’ll allow it,” the judge nodded.

Gerald continued, “her rapist, at trial, used almost exactly the same defense. Did you know she orgasmed?” He didn't wait for a response, “of course you did. You even spoke out against his claim. Can you read this aloud?” He pushed another piece of paper in front of Carl, and he pushed it back.

“That's not relevant. Its different.”

“Why? Because she’s a woman? Because she’s not a slave? Let me read your statement. 'People can't control how their bodies react. Whatever happened biologically doesn't mean she wanted that. Ever.’ Excellent statement.”

“He’s not a woman! Men  _ like _ it rough!” Carl was getting even more agitated.

“So, if this was all some kind of sadomasochistic playtime, what was his safe word?”

Carl rolled his eyes, “slaves don't need safe words.”

“Because he couldn't say no? Does that sound like he wanted it?”

Carl’s jaw tightened and he leaned forward, snarling, “I don't care what it sounds like. Maybe he took some convincing, but he probably got used to the perks.”

“Perks? Like respite from chores? Wasn't that because he couldn't walk after you beat and tortured him? Or…” Gerald turned back to his notes, “Private Quarters...because you couldn't bother to have someone carry him back to his own bed? Extra food, because the slaves in your house felt sorry for him? Those kind of perks?”

Carl shifted uncomfortably, “whatever. He still came to me  _ more _ than once. If he really hated it, he wouldn't have offered.”

“And what were the exact circumstances of these times he 'offered’? You mentioned someone 'younger’ and 'fresher’...how much younger?”

Carl’s breathing sped up and his lip curled, “I don't know, does it matter?”

Suddenly, Jethro snapped out of his zoned-out state, slammed his fists onto the table and stood suddenly. “KIDS! They were KIDS you son of a bitch!!” He lunged forward, but Tony’s reflexes were fast enough to wrap himself around Jethro and pull him back to his seat. “You're still taking them! You're hurting CHILDREN!”

The judge banged her gavel and asked Gerald to control Jethro, and Tony stepped behind him and started speaking into his ear, deep and quiet, until he stilled and returned to his seat.

“So, is it fair to say, Agent Gibbs wasn't  _ offering _ himself to you. He was  _ sacrificing _ himself for these kids?”

Tony didn't listen for the answer. He kept his lips close to Jethro's ear, not caring who saw, or what they thought. “Breathe. Keep breathing. We. Will. Get. Him. We’ll stop him. But you gotta breathe.” He kept repeating himself, “focus on me. My voice. Nobody else. My hand, right here.” He pressed Jethro's back, “we’re here. And we have to stay here. And he’s never touching you again.”

Jethro shook like a trapped animal. His fight or flight response was trying to desperately override the logical part of his brain. Tony’s voice and touch was helping to anchor him, but he wanted nothing more than to stand and rip Carl from his seat and beat him until he was nothing more than a bloody stain on the courtroom floor. All he heard was Tony, until finally, the gavel banged again, and he saw movement all around him.

“Jethro? Hey, it’s done. We’ve got 2 hours while she deliberates. Your dad's waiting.”

Panic crossed Jethro's face briefly, but he stifled it. “He stayed?”

“Outside. Slept in this morning, I texted him during our last break. Diner?” Tony stood and held out a hand with a smile on his face. Polar opposite to how his monotone voice and steady hand were holding him back earlier. Jethro gave him a small smile, stood, and straightened his jacket and tie as they walked out together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, but I don't know much about legal proceedings! A bunch of this would probably be thrown out of a real court, but eh, it's fanfiction lol.


	66. Tuesday+9 1400

The diner was nearly empty, since it was a little late for lunch and a little early for dinner, so the crew got the full attention of the waitress. Tony especially, which made Jethro’s nose twitch a little when her flirting got incredibly obvious.

“Oh, come on Jethro, I'm a flirt, you knew that going in,” Tony bumped him with his shoulder and grinned. “I may be taken, but I'm not dead.”

Jackson crooked an eyebrow and pointed at Tony, “hey! My boy doesn't need the stress!” His eyes showed amusement, though, and eventually they all settled down with their food and tried to completely ignore any talk of the trial.

“So, dad, the Challenger? What happens if they let me off the hook? I don't have a license.” Jethro chewed a piece of his hot roast turkey sandwich.

“Eh, just don't get pulled over. You think I never drove on a suspended license?” Jackson grinned as he downed another bite of meatloaf, “but I can take it home if ya want. The ladies love it.”

“Ladies?” Jethro acted shocked, “you've taken my car cruising for chicks? Where, the nursing home?”

LJ laughed, “hey, captive audience…besides, they don't see too many healthy good lookin’ guys like us down there. The car’s just a perk.”

Jethro rolled his eyes and shook his head, “you too?”

They laughed and smiled, enjoyed their meals, the waitress wrote her number on the check she passed to Tony, and only when they had 10 minutes left did the mood turn serious. “Dad, you coming back to sit with me?”

“Wouldn't miss it, son.” Jackson reached across and patted Jethro on the cheek as they stood, and pulled him into a hug.

Jethro sat with Tony on one side and his father on the other as the Judge called court back in session.

“Agent Gibbs, please rise.”

Jethro patted his dad’s shoulder and stood.

“Agent Gibbs, do you believe that murderers deserve to walk free?”

Jethro shook his head, “no ma’am.”

“And yet, you're here. Do you believe that there are people who deserve the treatment to which you have been subjected?”

“No ma’am. I don't advocate torture.”

“Torture to some, justice to others. Agent Gibbs, this trial has given me a few options. The first would be to grant you an early release and consider your sentence complete. I've decided against that.”

Jethro felt his stomach drop. Parole or early release had been their most likely outcome. Almost as likely was that she would simply correct his identity, effectively returning him to Tony and they were back to square one. He’d gotten his hopes up. He probably should know better by now.

“Leroy Jethro Gibbs, these men are here to take you into custody.”

Gibbs blinked and shook his head as two men strode purposefully from the rear of the courtroom, handcuffs out. Had he missed something? Tony was standing and sputtering, but the judge raised her hand as she passed the paperwork in front of her to one of the uniformed men. “As of this moment, you are in the custody of these MPs. I have reviewed the documents from your original case, as well as the evidence of nd I've decided to overturn the decision. Now, you have an arraignment to address the AWOL charges this afternoon. I've made my recommendations to the JAG office already. Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, I don't want to see you in my court again.” She banged the gavel as the MPs looked at Gibbs apologetically. They gently took Gibbs’s wrists and cuffed him, passing Tony a card with the address.

“I'm NCIS, I know where to go, thank you.” Tony was livid, but Jethro had a smile of relief. MPs he could handle. Even a prison sentence would be preferable, and it wouldn't be long for an AWOL charge. There was a light at the end of the tunnel.

*****

“My boy's in handcuffs! You said this was going to make things better! What kind of a lawyer are you?!” Jackson was getting into Gerald’s face, shaking his cane, as LJ pulled Tony into the hall.

“The judge made recommendations, Tony. She’s fair. Jethro needs to address this ASAP if he’s going to be truly free, ok? Marines aren't gonna screw him. Let’s go wait, ok?”

Tony nodded and pulled Jackson with him, mouthing an apology to Gerald, just when he saw a commotion at the end of the hall.

“I knew it! Taken away in cuffs like you deserve!  That boy get tired of you after hearing how used up you are? He finally see how you're manipula--” Carl’s rant was cut short by a fist to his face. Jethro had kept walking with the MPs, spurred on by their snarls and muttered cursing, but he stopped when he heard fist meet bone. The three of them turned to see Tony held back by court officers, and Carl unconscious on the floor. Tony spit in his face, straightened his jacket, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood off of his hand. Out of nowhere, the curved handle of a wooden cane flew through the air like a golf club and connected with Carl’s groin. Over and over again. If he hadn't been knocked unconscious, he would be by now. Jethro smirked at the pleasure in his father's face when he threw the cane down onto Carl and reached out for Tony’s elbow.

*****

“Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, you were on leave and chose to go to Mexico?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

“I have your file here, as well as a statement from Judge Khanam. Stop me if I'm getting anything wrong here. A drug runner killed your family. NIS had him dead to rights, but he ran to Mexico. You found him, even though you were still recovering from an IED explosion, executed him, then surrendered to the Mexican government. You were sentenced to a lifetime of slavery under an incorrect name and social security number, then suffered cruel and inhumane treatment at the hands of your owners. Your entire conviction was overturned this afternoon, and since your identity was incorrect, you still have AWOL charges on your head, and you're still an active duty Marine. How’m I doing?”

“Accurate, Sir.” Jethro kept his chin up. The charges were serious, he could end up with jail time, a dishonorable discharge, and still have to live with a criminal record, but he could handle that. He’d never intended to run from the consequences of his actions.

“Had you not been apprehended that day, would you have returned to base and reported for duty when your leave was over?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

Jethro’s lips tightened into a thin line and he inhaled sharply, “the corps was the only family I had left, sir. I failed my wife and daughter, I wasn't going to fail the corps.”

The JAG lawyer sighed and rubbed his temples. “I'm in a conundrum. So I'm gonna leave it up to you, Gunny. As far as I'm concerned, since your murder charge was overturned and you were acquitted, you were basically held against your will for 15 years and prevented from returning for duty, not AWOL. But what to do now?”

Jethro kept his hands clasped, his feet shoulder width apart, but his stomach was flipping around with nerves. This was starting to feel real.

“You've got a 12 day leave to think about it. Option one: retire. Your pension will be crap, but it’ll be there, and you're free to do whatever you want job-wise. Option 2: complete your officer training. From your records, I think you'd do well, the pay is better, and the Corps would be honored to have you. Option 3: Keep your title, but as a reservist, and stay with NCIS as a Marine liaison. I’ll see you at 0900 next Monday with your decision.” He closed the folder and stood, extending a hand to Jethro.

 _That's it. It's done. 10 minutes._ Jethro was stunned. He clasped the younger man’s hand and exhaled. His heart was racing, but he kept his composure as they left the room and saw Tony across the hall. He raised his hands to show they were free of cuffs, and Tony ran into his arms.

“Holy shit.” Tony whispered.

“You're tellin’ me.” Jethro responded, turning toward Tony's hair and inhaling deeply. “Thank you.”

Tony nodded against Jethro's face, not wanting to pull back. “The team will want to celebrate you know.”

“Tomorrow. Let’s celebrate alone tonight.” Jethro said, his voice rumbling through Tony's consciousness and making his cock stir.

Then Tony groaned, "shit...we gotta help Ned."

Jethro grabbed the keys to  _his_ car and grinned. "Let's get a move on, then!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hankering for some fluff, so now that the case is resolved, I think Ned needs another chapter. Don't worry, the boys won't be forgotten! Jethro has some job and living arrangement decisions to make.
> 
> And special thanks to Shadowwolfsden for the reservist/liason position idea! I had to add it as an option.


	67. Tuesday+9 1745

Ned headed to the lab to wait for Abby. She was never ready on time, and he knew today wasn't any different, if the volume of her music was any indication.

“Hello, fellow basement dweller!” Abby shouted as Ned crossed the threshold.

“Hey Abby. Ready yet?” Just then, Ned’s and Abby's phones buzzed with a text from Tony. Abby squealed before Ned had a chance to get his phone out, but she stood on the other side of the room and watched him expectantly. When he opened the text, he saw a photo of Jethro dangling his newer dog tag over the trash, and Tony's message said “we did it!” Ned exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“I know, right! Aren't you glad you're moving your stuff tonight? There’s gonna be some celebrating! Ooh, I wonder if I could sneak in...I wouldn't complain if I heard them...that'd be totally hot…” Abby was rambling, and Ned shook his head. “Wait...do I get to meet your lanky genius stud muffin?”

Ned blushed, “Abby, if you call him that, I'll hurt you. I don't know how, but I'm serious.”

“Ok, how’s just 'genius stud muffin’?”

Ned groaned and covered his face with his hands. Muffled, he said, “I will tell him not to come. I swear.”

“Fine. God, you're too easy!” Abby wrapped an arm around Ned’s waist and pulled him toward the elevator. “In all seriousness, he's good, right? Cuz especially your first time, it's not like you're 15 and all hormones, you totally deserve like, the cutest guy ever. Which, from my searching, seems to be about right. Although his friend Derek? *Whew*” Abby fanned herself, “he is...there aren't even words. Wait, yes there is. Perfection.”

“Abby, you may have to contain yourself. Derek is Spencer's best friend, and he wants to meet me, so...he’s coming tonight too. It’s like a federal law enforcement version of 'meet the family.’” Abby squealed and started hopping in the elevator and clapping.

“Ohmigod! I'll have to drop you off and then go home. He can't see me like this, I'm all 'worky’. I should wear my good boots...the ones with the extra buckles…”

Ned had the good sense to knock before he came in the house, and he heard laughter from the stairwell and Jethro came down. “Can I hug you, or do you need to take care of some things first?” Ned asked. Jethro crooked an eyebrow, gave him a half smile, and opened his arms. Ned pulled him in, one arm over his shoulder, the other under his arm, and squeezed. “Thank God.”

Jethro usually pulled back quickly from embraces like this, but strangely, he felt comfortable. Maybe because, even with someone like Ned, nearly half a foot taller and somewhat wider, wrapping his arms around him, he still felt like he was doing the hugging. “I'm ok.”

Ned pulled back and straightened his shirt, “well, of course you're ok. No matter what happened, you'd still be screwing like rabbits.” He chuckled nervously, “but...I know Tony was scared you'd give up, and…”

Jethro glanced up the stairs, where he knew Tony was naked and keeping himself hard, as Jethro had instructed. “And what, Ned?” As the young man stalled, Jethro’s concern turned into a strong glare.

Ned chewed his bottom lip. He wasn't sure if he should tell Jethro, but then he felt  _ the _ glare. And he cracked. “Just something he said in the car...like, if he couldn't free you, you’d be disappointed in him or something.”

Jethro sighed. “Thank you. Look, I know we’re moving you tonight, give me 5 minutes, ok? Maybe 10.”

Ned blushed, “Tony's naked, isn't he?”

Jethro just shot him a knowing glance and headed upstairs.

“Tony?” Jethro came into the bedroom and found Tony on his back, stroking himself and whimpering. Jethro had been talking with Ned for a while, and Tony had almost cum twice. His cock was hard and dripping, and Jethro had to make a decision. Now. “Tony, come here.” Jethro stood at the edge of the bed, and Tony scooted over and sat with his thighs on either side of Jethro and let him pull him into an embrace, nuzzling his head against his stomach. Slowly, Jethro slid down until he was kneeling in front of Tony, and unceremoniously slid his mouth over the head of Tony's cock.

Tony flopped back onto the bed with a moan and fisted the sheets. He was so close already, but every time he felt his balls tighten, Jethro backed off  _ just _ enough that he came back from the edge just a tiny bit. He felt tears in his eyes when finally,  _ finally _ , Jethro swallowed him down and he came with a groan and a shout.

Tony was a little embarrassed. “God, what am I, 14?”

Jethro crawled into the bed to meet him. “Hmmm?”

“I lasted about 3 minutes! I'm supposed to be the 'Sex Machine’!” He pouted at Jethro.

Jethro laughed and kissed Tony’s forehead, “I think that’s saying less about  _ your _ staying power, and more about  _ my _ skill.” he winked at his lover.

“Thanks for trying to soothe my bruised ego” Tony beamed, sleepily.

“And Tony...even if things had gone another way today... I'd still be here.” Jethro's tone was serious now.

Tony let his head fall back on the mattress and he huffed. “Well, you'd kinda have to be.”

Jethro sighed, “Tony, no matter what, maybe I was in this  _ house _ because I had to be. But I'm in your  _ bed _ because I  _ want _ to be.”

Tony stared at the ceiling for a while until he responded. “Making the best out of a bad situation. But now you are free to choose what...or  _ who _ ...you really want.”

Jethro smacked the top of his head.

“Ow! What the hell?” Tony reached up and rubbed his scalp.

“You're being dumb again. Tony, I didn't jump into bed with you just because I had the opportunity. You're a good man, and I'm attracted to you, and I'd have been attracted to you even if we weren't in the same house. It only took me so long  _ because _ you own...owned...me.”

Tony wasn't so sure. “Ok, and if you hadn't found out I was trying to free you?”

Jethro snorted, “it might have taken me an extra week or two.” Then he thought about Tony's statement and was a little hurt. “I'm not in the habit of giving sexual favors in return for special treatment, despite what that attorney tried to say.”

Tony sat up on his elbows and glared at Jethro, “that's not what I said!” He glared at the ice blue eyes of the man next to him. “But of course you'd be more likely to want me. That's just logic.”

Jethro shook his head, “Tony, you being a good person is why I'm here. It’s  _ also _ the reason you helped me. The two are connected, but one didn't cause the other. So stop. And Ned is also waiting downstairs and his boyfriend is coming with a friend of his and a truck for the bed you promised him. We’ll continue this later.” Jethro stood and patted Tony’s knee, then tossed an OSU shirt at him. “You should probably wear something. I hear this friend is pretty...pretty” Jethro winked and walked out of the room.

“Wait, what?” Tony yelled, frantically nhopping on one foot into a pair of jeans. “Pretty how? Damnit, Jethro!”

*****

“Thanks for the help babe.” Ned wrapped an arm around Spencer's narrow waist and pulled him close. “I’d like if you stayed after dinner?” He whispered, tentatively.

Reid blushed, but smiled, “are you inviting me for a sleepover?”

Ned buried his head against his boyfriend's ear, “well...if you wanted…” he was pretty sure Spence could feel his heart beating a mile a minute. There was no question about the stirring in his pants.

Reid kissed Ned’s cheek, “let’s talk after everyone leaves. You invited them to stay, remember?”

Ned groaned, “yeah, I know.”

Reid smiled again, and tucked his hair behind his ear, “Tony left to pick up the food 17 and a half minutes ago. He’ll be back in about 12, depending on traffic, and it is recommended that adults take 18 to 25 minutes to eat a meal. We still have plenty of time to watch a movie after they go if you'd like.”

Ned grinned and nodded. Spence’s statistics and analytics were just one thing he loved…liked...liked about him. He glanced over at Jethro and Derek standing by the picture window looking out at the city lights. It wasn't the best view, but it wasn't half bad.

“Want one?” Derek offered Jethro a bottle of the beer he’d brought, but Jethro shook his head. “Look, man, I heard about your case today. Congrats.”

Jethro nodded and drank his water thirstily. They'd made quick work of the few things Ned had purchased for his apartment, and it was a 4th story walk up.

Derek cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder at the lovebirds, then back to Jethro. Quietly, he continued, “actually, I talked to your lawyer the other day. Offered to testify if he needed. Glad he didn't.” He took a long pull from his beer and ignored the confused look coming from the man next to him.

Jethro evaluated the younger agent. Never been a slave, and he was probably early to mid 30s. Carl was working or lower middle class for most of his life...if he hadn't had slaves available to him until about 12 years ago… “How old?”

Derek's eyes closed, “Twelve when it started. Can't get him for what he did to me, it’s been too long.”

Jethro looked into his glass, “or me. Slaves don't count.”

“Slave  _ kids _ do. It’s a bullshit distinction, but it's the law nonetheless. You protected them when you could, but if he…” Derek looked at Jethro's face, and the older man nodded.

“Couldn't save 'em all.”

“I figured. I've tried to talk to folks there over the years, no help. They're too scared of him. But if they remember you…”

Jethro knew where he was going. “They'll talk to me.”

Derek let out the breath he'd been holding. “Can you meet tomorrow? Hash out a game plan? They don't know.” he motioned his head toward Reid.

Jethro nodded as Derek finished his beer and started on the one he'd brought for Jethro. “So, I hear you're a damn good agent. A natural investigator. And now you've got options...ever thought about defecting to the FBI?” Their conversation became less tense and by the time Tony returned with the food and Abby in her 'good’ boots, they were discussing the lack of detail on the woodwork in the apartment.

While Tony was glad Jethro was making friends, there was far too much touching for his comfort. Derek was beautiful. He was  _ pretty _ . And a tad bit younger than him. And his muscles had muscles. And his shirt was about a size and a half too small. And his pants fit his ass so well they looked like they'd been sewn around it. And he carried his badge and gun like the ex-cop he was, like Tony did, not like the FLETC kids (he loved McGee, and Ned, but it was just a different air about agents who were cops first, instead of bookworms). And, his hand was on Jethro's shoulder, pointing at wood planks or some other construction detail, and Jethro wasn't pulling away.

Tony couldn't help but wonder if, despite his words and intentions, Jethro wouldn't run from everything that reminded him of his slavery. Including him.


	68. Tuesday+9 1945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, short chapter, but the younger boys have their evening coming up next, hopefully tonight, and I couldn't post them out of order for those following along!

Tony was pretty sure a lesser man would have been incredibly embarrassed, but Derek had maintained his composure like a pro as Abby kept pressing her hands along his muscles. He did stop her when she started asking about his glutes, however, and Tony couldn’t help but laugh at her disappointment.  
  
“We should definitely keep her away from Garcia.” Tony startled slightly at the voice next to him, but he knew it was Reid.   
  
“Who’s Garcia?”  
  
“Basically, our version of your Abby, our technical analyst. Their personalities appear to be remarkably similar, however Garcia chooses to express herself much more colorfully. She, too, has a rather intense fascination with Morgan’s physique.” Spencer shook his head lightly, “it’s become somewhat of a running joke, how they flirt with each other. Thankfully, they both understand the other’s position, and know it won’t amount to anything. Morgan is just a terrible flirt with just about anyone.”   
  
“I noticed.” Tony said, grumpily.   
  
Spencer smiled, “He is seriously involved with a lovely young woman, I don’t think he poses any threat to your relationship with Agent Gibbs, if that’s what you are concerned about.”   
  
“No, I’m not.” Tony wasn’t interested in discussing his insecurities with his son’s boyfriend…a man who appeared to only be about 30…not much younger than him…this was still weird. He shook his head and looked to the kitchen, where Ned had assembled all the containers and paper plates and utensils. “Looks like food’s on!” He pulled on a grin and sauntered toward the kitchen.   
  
*****  
  
“So, Ned, how did you catch our fair genius’s eye?” Morgan asked, his mouth slightly full of mooshoo chicken.   
  
Ned blushed, “well, he caught mine first. You remember the case a few weeks ago where one of our cold cases was an old victim we hadn’t connected? Well, Spence started spouting all kinds of statistics and fiddling with his hands, and…I don’t know, I just really wanted to get to know him outside of work. I’m not all that great with the whole flirting thing, so thank goodness he’s a profiler.”  
  
Reid beamed, “I gave him my card with my number on the back.”   
  
Morgan groaned, “you didn’t make him try to figure it out, did you, pretty boy?”   
  
“Yup.”   
  
Tony and Jethro looked confused, but Abby was snickering—obviously she’d heard this story before. Reid looked over at them and continued, “See, I figure, if someone is worth getting to know, they should be willing to do a little work. I gave him my phone number in roman numerals. Before I even got to the elevator, he’d texted me. Not too many people can figure out 2,022,246,597 that quickly. Even if he had used google.”   
  
“Which I didn’t! I was just really good in Latin in college, and they made us learn that stuff.” Ned protested, and everyone laughed. “I was worried he’d think it was desperate, but I kinda wanted to impress him that I’d figured it out so fast. Maybe I’m not a crazy genius, but I can keep up. Sometimes.”   
  
Reid leaned against Ned and bumped his shoulder, letting a piece of hair fall into his face. Ned immediately reached to tuck it behind his ear, and the entire table erupted into a chorus of “awwwwww”s.   
  
Ned rolled his eyes, “OK, seriously, if y’all don’t stop, you’re leaving and I’m keeping all the food here!”   
  
The rest of the meal went well, although Ned seemed to be rushing everyone out the door, until finally Jethro and Tony nodded to each other. “Ned, can I talk to you for a second?” Tony asked, and Jethro went to gather Abby from her continued poking of the ‘perfectly sculpted chocolate Adonis’ in the living room. The two men stood and went into the kitchen. “Look, I know you only had one key to the deadbolt when you were living with me, because that’s all I really started locking after Ari, but here…” he passed Ned a ring of keys, on a chain that had a silver stylized D.   
  
“What’s this? I move out, and THEN I get keys to the place?” Ned asked, jokingly.   
  
“Well…A: I didn’t know where all the keys were, to be honest, so I had some of the locks replaced. And B…maybe it’s symbolic. I don’t know what I’m doing here, so I’m trying. But just keep them, OK? You’re always welcome to come as you please. At your own risk, of course.” Tony winked, and Ned rolled his eyes.   
  
“Way to ruin a moment.”   
  
Tony just smiled, and then pulled a small box from his pocket. “But wait, there’s more!” He exclaimed in an exaggerated infomercial voice. “For the low, low price of having DiNozzo genes, you have inherited the family signet ring.”   
  
Tony’s tone was jovial, but Ned froze. This wasn’t a joking matter anymore, but Tony was nervous. “what?” Ned asked, quietly.   
  
Tony cleared his throat and was serious again, “it’s yours. It should have been yours four years ago.” He passed Ned the box, and he slowly opened it. Inside was a beautiful ring. Very old, and obviously very valuable. “My dad is a dick, but the DiNozzo heritage otherwise is still a good one. This has been passed down in our family to the oldest sons on their 21st birthdays. Let’s just pretend I got it from my grandfather, who was the last person I ever saw wear it, since dear old dad threatened to sell it when he turned 21, and now I’m giving it to you. And eventually you’ll have a rugrat, and you’ll give it to him.” Tony’s hand was shaking as he looked at the ring he’d never had the heart to wear.  
  
“Tony…I can’t accept this…I’m not…”  
  
Tony shushed him. “Doesn’t matter what name you have. You’re blood, and you should have it. I just wish I could’ve given it to you when you turned 21.”   
  
“Thanks. A lot.” Ned’s chest tightened. He’d gotten used to buddy-Tony, and even big-brother-Tony, but this was decidedly Tony trying to be a little more like a father. He suddenly hugged him, and whispered in his ear, “I wish you could’ve too.” They stayed like that for longer than either would admit, battling feelings they wouldn’t talk about, and then Tony tapped Ned’s back, brushed his shoulder, pushed him back, waved to the two FBI agents, and left with Jethro and Abby.


	69. Tuesday+9 2150

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in Ned and Reid's evening, check out their [Chapter 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7650703/chapters/17797966)

“You OK?” Jethro asked Tony between kisses, after they’d gotten home and were slowly undressing each other.  
  
Tony huffed, “I should be asking you that! Your first Free night in 15 years, how are YOU?” He pulled the undershirt over Jethro’s head and kissed his neck and jaw.  
  
Jethro reached up and cupped Tony’s face in his hands and pulled him back to look in his eyes. “I’m still processing. But I saw you with Ned…what was that about?”  
  
“Just a family heirloom. I never wore it, but Ned doesn’t have the memories of my father to affect him.” Tony leaned forward and embraced Jethro, before he continued, as he rubbed his hands randomly along Jethro’s back and sides. “It’s a signet ring. It was passed down to the oldest son on his 21st birthday. By the time I was 21, I wanted nothing to do with my father, and he’d never worn the damn thing, so the only thing I can remember is my grandfather mentioning it when I was really really little. I didn’t care. When I was 32, my dad mailed it to me with a letter saying he wanted to fix things between us. I guess I was stupid and gullible, so I spent the next few years fooling myself that he wasn’t lying.”  
  
“You’re not stupid OR gullible. You see the good in people, even when that good is just a tiny speck.” Jethro took a few steps toward the bed, but didn’t release Tony from their embrace. “He’s a con man, you’ve said it yourself. And if you’ve inherited ANYTHING from him, it’s your ability to excel at whatever you put your mind to. Unfortunately, he’s put his mind to doing some terrible things.”  
  
Tony shook his head, “Yeah, and I got the ‘dad of the year’ award from him too. I’m doing great there.”  
  
Jethro squeezed Tony tighter, “Don’t say that.” He pulled Tony’s face up and into a deep kiss, pausing only to give him the affirmation he needed in that moment. “Ned may be a grown man, but you’ve already shown you’re a better father than him.” And “if you ever have other children, I have no doubt you’ll prove to be an amazing father. Anyone would be lucky to have you and to parent with you.”  
  
The gentle but passionate kissing had left Tony breathless when he pulled back, “I just can’t believe…how much he wants to hurt you…Why can’t the FBI hurry up?”  
  
Jethro snorted, “they’re FBI…hurry up and wait…” Tony laughed, and Jethro kissed the upturned corners of his mouth. “Tony, let’s not talk about your father anymore, huh?” He sat on the bed and pulled Tony down next to him. Tony closed his eyes as Jethro stroked his cheek and just looked at him, lying on the bed shirtless. “You're beautiful, you know that?"

Tony rolled his eyes, “well, _yeah_.” He grinned and pulled Jethro on top of him. “Let's forget today.” His hand slid between them, and he wrapped his fingers around Jethro's almost hard cock. “Things are far too serious in here.”

Jethro smirked and captured Tony's mouth in a passionate kiss, which quickly brought both of their bodies to full arousal. Jethro rocked his hips, running his cock along Tony's, and Tony’s hand wrapped them both together. When Jethro started a slow crawl down to Tony's groin, he pulled him back up. “Unh-uh. Up here, mister.” Tony smirked, and wrapped his fingers firmly around the back of Jethro's neck.

Jethro was tired from such an overwhelming day, but the look in Tony’s eyes gave him a bit of a second wind. He let Tony keep stroking them together as he got the lube, and he slicked his fingers. He pulled his cock away from Tony's hand, lowering his body so he could easily slide first one finger, then two, into Tony’s ass. He payed special attention to Tony’s sensitive nipples, drawing groans and moans from the muscular body. “Turn over,” Jethro said, pulling his fingers from the tight heat and backing up to give Tony room.

Tony would never admit how quickly he scrabbled onto his hands and knees, whimpering when Jethro placed a hand between his shoulder blades and pushed his chest into the mattress.

Jethro ran his hands across the perfect globes in front of him, squeezing and rubbing Tony’s cheeks until he pulled them apart and brushed his fingers over the exposed hole. Tony shuddered and arched his back, moaning into the pillow. His hands were fisting the sheets when Jethro's already slick, hard cock pressed into him slowly. Tony gasped and pressed his face into the pillows as he was breached, then thrust his hips back, taking Jethro's length in one hard stroke.

“Fuck,” Jethro grunted, not expecting the almost painfully tight heat so suddenly surrounding him.

“That's the idea,” Tony said onto the pillow. Jethro didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking.

“Smartass.” Jethro pulled out and snapped his hips forward to accentuate his point.

“Take me, Jethro.” Tony’s smirk was gone, he squeezed his muscles around Jethro's cock and wiggled his hips. “I'm yours. I want to be. Please. Whatever you want.”

Jethro gripped Tony’s hips and pulled him close, thrusting deep into him, reveling in the moans pressed into the pillow. Jethro set a fast pace, thrusting hard, and curled himself over Tony’s back to grab his cock. Tony was crying out, muffling his name into the pillow, and soon he braced himself on his hands, pushing back into Jethro's thrusts, begging for more, and when Jethro leaned forward to pinch and twist his nipple with the hand not stroking his cock, he screamed in pleasure and pain and came hard. So hard, Jethro's cock was trapped in the squeezing muscle, as though Tony was trying to milk his cock. Jethro slammed home just two more times before he exploded himself, sucking hard on the back of Tony's shoulder, marking him.  
  
After tossing a towel over the wet spot, Jethro laid on his back and pulled Tony close, into the position he’d grown accustomed to—Tony’s head cradled on his chest, one arm and one leg thrown over his—and ran his fingers through his slightly shaggy hair.  
  
“We should shower,” Tony mumbled. “sweaty.”  
  
“shh, we have the morning.” Jethro kept petting him, feeling his whole body melt into the mattress.  
  
“Gonna be sore tomorrow.”  
  
Jethro tensed and felt his heart speed up, “what? Did I hurt you?”  
  
Tony tapped his chest, “Not that. Well, maybe a little sore there, but that’s a good thing. I was talking about the moving. How long until we’re moving your stuff out too?”  
  
It was a loaded question, and unfair to bring up when they were like this, and Tony knew it. But he just squeezed Jethro tighter and avoided looking up into the intense stare he knew was directed at him. “Tony. Look at me. Please.”  
  
It was the ‘please’ that did it. Tony tilted his head and was surprised at the softness he saw. “I can’t promise anything right now about moving or the job or any of it. I haven’t even thought about what I might need. But I CAN promise I’ll talk with you about it. I already made my choice here, Tony. I play for keeps, and I’m gonna do my damndest to keep you, ok?”  
  
Tony was still a little high on endorphins from the sex, so he blamed his response on that. He buried his head back against Jethro’s chest, nodding, and hid what emotions he could. Jethro just kept stroking his hair until he felt Tony’s breathing and heart rate even out, and he unconsciously nuzzled his cheek against his lightly furred chest. It was almost like a cat marking his human, and Jethro smiled as he drifted off himself.  
  
*****  
  
“Yes, Dad, I’ll be safe. I promise I will NOT wreck the car. What am I, 17?” Jethro grinned as he ran his hand along the frame of the yellow and black car in front of him.  
  
“Well, you still drive like a bat outta hell, boy. If I have to come see you in the hospital again, it’s gonna give me a heart attack, and damnit, I’m too young to die!” Jackson snickered as he patted his son’s upper arm and gestured for a hug. “Now I just gotta survive being driven around by Mr. MaGoo here, and I’ll be all set.”  
  
“Hey, my eyesight’s better’n yours old man.” LJ countered, “You wanna get home to that rust bucket you call a truck, I’d advise you watch your tone.”  
  
Tony couldn’t help but laugh. The two friends bickered like an old married couple. He was glad they had each other. Maybe Jethro would decide to move closer to Stillwater to help them out…He shook the thought from his mind and went inside. He’d already said his goodbyes, and left Jethro to be as emotional as he wanted without an audience.  
  
“Son. Seriously, it’s not just the car. Take this.” Jackson passed Jethro a padded envelope with several items inside. “Read it later, OK? It’s not doin’ me any good.”  
  
Jethro had an inkling as to what was inside, but he tucked it under his jacket anyway and gave his dad one last hug, LJ one last handshake…aw hell, and a hug, and waved as they departed. He brought the envelope inside and sat it on his desk before he heard the knock at the door.  
  
“Oh come on!” Tony’s voice carried up the stairs, “I JUST got breakfast started…oh, sorry Duck.”  
  
Jethro left the envelope and headed down the stairs to see Ducky in the entry, grinning triumphantly, his medical bag in one hand, and a small stack of papers in the other. “You, my boy, are officially, one hundred percent, FREE. Your chip has been deactivated, and while some choose to leave them in place to avoid the additional scarring and pain, and some choose to make an appointment with a surgeon, I gather you'd prefer the faster route?”

“If you're offerin’, Duck, then let's do this.” Jethro sat at the dining room table and watched as Ducky set up what he needed.

“This will not be particularly comfortable, Jethro. Moreso than when you attempted it yourself, but there will still be some pain.” Jethro nodded as Ducky shaved a small area, injected some lidocaine, and began setting up a sterile field as it took effect. “Now, hold still please. You've created additional scar tissue I will need to work around, so this may take a while. You'll feel pressure and pulling and dull pain, but if you feel cutting or poking, please let me know so I can administer additional numbing agents.”

Tony sat next to Jethro and took his hand between his, letting Jethro grip his hands when he needed. Jethro winced occasionally, but didn't cry out or ask Ducky to stop, and soon the tiny *clink* of metal on glass told them it was done. Ducky passed Jethro a vial as he stitched the small incision, and his mind slipped back to its insertion. In the US, insertion was typically an easy procedure, where the chip is as small as a grain of rice and inserted using a large needle. His, however, was larger and was placed without pain relief. He’d been strapped to a chair, his head secured to the side as some medical school dropout cut into him and shoved the chip under the skin and muscle. He’d tried to fight and been threatened with a scalpel to the brain.

Ducky offered to clean the chip and return it, but Jethro just glared at him. “I wanted to offer, don't take offense,” Ducky said, as he left. “I’ll make sure it is permanently destroyed.”

“Thanks Duck.” Jethro’s hand fell to his hip, as it often did these past 2 months. Legalities aside, he’d always have Tony’s initials seared into his skin. He wasn't sure how he felt about keeping them. He could add to the scars, disfigure them, but that couldn't change what they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I threw some sleepy kitty for cutsycat and jane_x80 :)


	70. Wednesday+9 1100

“Pleased to meet you, I only wish it were under better circumstances."

Jethro shook the agent's hand and nodded. He was glad Derek had the support of his supervisor in this. “So,  _ you're _ definitely not FBI…” he crooked an eyebrow at the shorter man next to Agent Hotchner.

“No. I lie too much, hazard of the job. I'm ADA Franklin from Chicago.” The older man smiled and shook his hand. “If you all are going to cook up some scheme to get witnesses, I'm here to make sure it’s admissible. I just found out that sonofabitch diddled my nephew, and I'm getting him for everything I can.”

“I assume he’s home already?” Derek asked, but Franklin grinned.

“No, he had an... accident. Apparently he fell. Fractured his orbital, and they had to remove one of his balls from testicular rupture. Unfortunately, for as much pain as he was in, and how long it took them to admit him in the ER, it was a simple surgery, so he’s being released today.”

Jethro snorted. “They didn't see what happened?”

Franklin shook his head. “Everyone was looking somewhere else, apparently.”

“Good.” Jackson would be pleased. Jethro made a mental note to call his father that evening.

“That being said,” Agent Hotchner spoke up, “we need to discuss how we are going to talk with these witnesses without fear of retribution from Buford. Gibbs has assured Morgan that the possible victims at the estate might be willing to discuss their attacks with him, and Morgan, you believe you can talk to the boys at the youth center?” Both men nodded.

“I have it on good authority that part of Mr. Buford’s good fortunes over the past decade have been illegally obtained. The IRS has already launched an investigation, and in 3 days they will be taking him into custody to do a full audit and temporary confiscation of his property pending investigation. That should take the better part of a week, do you think that would allow you enough time?” Franklin asked, pulling out his cell phone. “I'm sure they could lose some paperwork if you needed a few more days.”

Jethro shook his head, “no, a day or two is all I'll need. They'll believe me, as long as some of the folks I knew are still there.”

Derek nodded, “I might need a bit more time than that, but a week is plenty.”

“And your teams?” Franklin asked.

Hotch spoke up, “Joint undercover operation. The rest of our team doesn't know the specifics of Agent Morgan's involvement, and he’s asked me to keep it that way unless and until absolutely necessary. Director Vance has already agreed to put Agent Gibbs on loan to us for the case.”

Jethro nodded. Since he specified Vance, he guessed Tony didn't know. One more thing to hit him with...spending up to a week with the somewhat flirtatious and very attractive Agent Derek Morgan. He wasn't interested, and Morgan wasn't interested, but Tony’s insecurities would flare. “Agent Morgan, what spurred this recent interest in nailing this bastard after this long? If I may.”

Derek shrugged. “I visit my mama for Christmas every year, and two Christmases ago, I saw him in the sports store with a  _ boy _ . Young. And I saw that boy's face, and the way he put his hand on his shoulder, and I  _ knew _ . I knew that look. I wore that look for years, It all came crashing back and when I got my shit together, I started digging on my own. Flagged his file, tried to talk to folks when I could, but I couldn't get anyone to testify against him. I hit a brick wall and went to Hotch, and we were about to open an official case when I got notified someone was poking around.”

The four men continued their scheming over lunch, and it took about an hour until Hotchner noticed Jethro hadn't said another word. “Something on your mind, Gibbs?”

Jethro downed the last of his root beer and growled. “He’s headed to jail, we know we’ll get him, but he’s got upwards of 35 slaves now. I'd hazard a guess that at least 10 of the younger slaves are victims, and probably all of the women. And we’re gonna throw them back to the auction house? Sure, we’ll nail Buford, but we’re victimizing these people again.”   


Morgan sighed and leaned back into his seat. “Shit, you're right. Hotch, we can't do that.”

Jethro pursed his lips, then felt a light bulb go off. “They've got families. Especially the born slaves. Our analyst can find the homes where they may have family and get them transferred. If they don't, I can see if Ducky and Tony can use their connections to find decent households.”

Derek leaned forward on his knees, “I know some folks in Chicago. I’ll make some calls too.”

Jethro nodded in relief. “It’ll make it easier to talk to them if they know they'll have somewhere safe to go after they testify. Maybe we can't free them all, but they have to be safe.”

The plans fleshed out, phone calls were made, and they agreed that Morgan and Gibbs would meet at the BAU jet at 0800 on Saturday. Jethro shook hands with the lawyer and SSA Hotchner, and then Morgan caught his attention. “Hey, Gibbs...you mentioned at Ned’s that you do detail work?” Jethro nodded as he pulled his coat on. “I'm workin’ on this house just outside of town and it needs some serious help. I can fix most anything, but matching the woodwork on a 1920s arts and crafts home is above my pay grade…”

Jethro smirked, “let’s check it out. I’ll follow you.”

Morgan paused, “uh, DiNozzo gonna have a problem?” The question was honest, not accusatory.

Jethro, however, stopped in his tracks. “You asking if I need to  _ check in _ ?” He snarled.

Morgan took a step back, “woah, man, nah, not like that. He just seemed a little off last night. Didn't want to throw you in the doghouse.”

Jethro huffed, “let’s check out this detail work.”

*****

“I put dinner in the fridge,” Tony mumbled from the couch as Jethro removed his coat and shoes, “unless you had dinner already.” His words were slurred just enough for Jethro to come around to the front of the couch and see the nearly empty glass of sweet brown liquid lingering in his hand.

“You're pissed. Why?” He stood directly in front of Tony as he waited.

“Who says I'm pissed?” Tony waved him off and emptied the glass, not meeting his eyes.

“You. I'm not an idiot.” Jethro was starting to get irritated.

Tony stood suddenly and stomped into the kitchen like a petulant child. Jethro knew this was partly his fault for throwing a tantrum and missing the dinner he’d said he would be home for. But this pouting was getting under his skin. He was a grown man, for God’s sake. He followed Tony into the kitchen and stood in the doorway, arms folded, until Tony turned back around.

“I'm not stopping you. Do what you want. Have dinner with who you want. Not my problem.” Tony shrugged.

Jethro sighed and dropped his arms, “Tony, I lost track of time, I figured I'd be 15, 20 minutes later than I said, not 90.”

Tony rolled his eyes and it was his turn to cross his arms, “whatever, just call next time. It’s rude.”

Jethro took a few steps toward Tony, “are you pissed because I didn't call, or because of who I was with?” Tony didn't respond. “Do you think I'm a cheater, Tony?”

The harsh words might as well have smacked Tony in the face. He’d been pouty and jealous, but when he was faced with the blunt reality, he couldn't picture Jethro doing that. But he still said, “We never said we were exclusive, so it wouldn't really be cheating.”

Jethro snorted, “Tony, I'm pretty sure when I sit in front of an entire room of people and tell them that, after just two months and also being your  _ slave _ , I've fallen in love with you, I think that counts as me wanting you exclusively. Do  _ you _ think we’re not exclusive?” It was a nasty blow, below the belt, to underhandedly twist this back on Tony, but it slipped out. That second B in his name did stand for Bastard after all.

“Excuse me? Are you accusing me of something? I didn't just spend the last, what, three hours, with Agent Muscles.” Anger flooded his face, “By the way, here’s the notebook you forgot, Agent Hotchner brought it by after you two left together.” Tony dropped the pad of paper onto the table.

Jethro sighed. Tony had had nearly three hours to stew over this, and Jethro wasn't making it any better. But he was still an adult, a Free adult, and if he wanted to talk about 1920s wood carvings with a friend, that was his right. “Tony, what do you think happened?” He advanced on Tony slowly. “You think he dragged me out to one of his abandoned properties and seduced me? Do you think I'd  _ let _ him?”

Tony inhaled sharply but held his ground, “maybe not yet. But he’s good looking, you two have more in common than we do, he doesn't have my baggage,” he listed these things as if they were no big deal. As if they were reasons for Jethro to find Morgan more attractive than him.

Jethro reached out and curled his hand around the back of Tony's neck. “Maybe we can talk about 1920s cabinetry and crown moulding, but I don't have any sudden urges to bend him over a kitchen table. Unlike  _ you _ .”

Tony pulled back slightly, but the hand on his neck kept him in place. “I can have friends, Tony. I can have attractive friends. I can even recognize when they're attractive, because, like you said, I'm taken not dead. But I don't want to do  _ this _ with anyone else.” He pulled Tony in for a kiss, plundering his mouth and grinning at the needy sounds coming from deep in Tony throat. As he’d suggested, he suddenly turned Tony and pushed between his shoulder blades, pressing his chest against the table. Tony gasped as Jethro roughly pulled his sweatpants down and pressed his fully clothed groin against his ass. “Feel that?” Jethro asked, rubbing himself along Tony's crack. Tony’s head fell to the table and he shuddered. “I  _ want _ you, Tony. Just you.”

“Please…” Tony spread his legs as far as they'd go with his ankles still trapped in his pants.

“Please what?” Jethro grinned, unbuttoning and lowering his zipper.

“Fuck me, Jethro.” Tony lay, naked, his body limp on the table, waiting for his lover to have his way with him.

Jethro lowered his jeans and briefs enough to free his straining cock and he spit into his hand. Testing the waters, he shoved two slicked fingers roughly into Tony. Tony hissed, then quickly moaned at the intrusion, bucking his hips back against him. “Is that how you want it?” Tony's only response was to moan louder when Jethro scissored his fingers, stretching the man faster than normal. “You want me inside you? You want me to fuck you, push inside when you're barely stretched?” The dirty talk bought Jethro some time to  _ actually _ prep Tony, under the guise of rough handling.

When Jethro was convinced Tony wouldn't be actually hurt, he quickly withdrew his fingers and spit heavily into his palm again, slicking his cock and thrusting into Tony fast and hard. “FUCK!” Tony cried, the burning pain overwhelming him for just a moment, until he adjusted slightly to accommodate Jethro's width.

“Unh,” Jethro grunted at the intense heat and constriction around his cock. “God Tony, so fucking tight. You like this?” Tony pushed back against him slightly, his cock hard and bouncing against the bottom of the table. Jethro pulled back and snapped his hips forward. “You like me filling you?”

Tony was incapable of coherent thought. He panted against the table, lost in the sensation of being filled, the burning and the pleasure and the feeling of being split in two sending him into subspace. “Yes, yes!”

Jethro saw Tony slipping, and part of him panicked, wanted to stop immediately, but another part of him was pushing him forward, responding to the whimpered moans, thrusting harder, spontaneously dropping a hand to slap Tony's ass, hard, and he jumped as Tony clenched his muscles around his cock. It spurred him on, thrusting and leaning over Tony to bite at his shoulder, marking him again, not enough to draw blood, but deep enough that Tony writhed under him and mumbled a string of expletives until he tensed and Jethro felt his muscles still for a split second before Tony screamed his release, painting the underside of the table with his white hot cum. Jethro didn't slow, didn't stop, and if anything, he thrust harder, egged on by Tony's moans and begging, until he came hard, deep in Tony's body.

After a few minutes, Jethro's spent cock slid from Tony’s ass, and he stepped back to get a cloth from the drawer by the sink. Tony hadn't moved, and Jethro carefully cleaned him, pulling him up and leading him upstairs to bed. He winced at the small smears of blood he found on his thigh, but waited to talk with Tony about it later. He stripped to his briefs and cradled Tony for a while until he felt his breathing even out and his muscles relax. Instead of stroking his hair this time, Jethro rubbed the bruise on his shoulder. Part of him felt guilty, but another part, one he pushed down forcefully, felt pride. He’d marked Tony, just as Tony had marked him all those weeks ago, except Tony had begged for it.

Before settling in to sleep himself, Jethro returned his hand to Tony's scalp, running his fingers through the strands and letting himself enjoy the warmth of the man’s hummed approval. The vibrations he felt in his chest made Jethro chuckle slightly, first nuzzling, and now this...he’d turned a big bad federal agent into a kitten in his sleep.

He’d never let Tony live this down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy kitten is sleepy.
> 
> I know I promised house/job talk, but Buford needed to be talked about, and Tony was jealous, so...yeah ;)


	71. Thursday+9 0500

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chunk of this was inspired by Leydhawk's work [The System](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4726223/chapters/10799681). Heed her warnings!
> 
> Also, thanks to [cutsycat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cutsycat/pseuds/cutsycat)

Tony rolled over, wincing a bit at the soreness in his ass, but otherwise totally satisfied. Horny again, but satisfied. The other side of the bed was empty, and he sniffed the air for the usual smell of brewing coffee. Finding none, he listened for sounds of construction in the basement. When he came up empty again, he went investigating. He still had two hours before he needed to be getting ready for work.

At the bottom of the stairs, he saw a pair of sneakers and windbreaker missing from their usual positions by the front door. At first Tony panicked. He was afraid Jethro had left, but then logic cleared his brain. He probably hadn't been able to choose to take a run by himself for over 15 years. As he rounded the corner, he found his guitar resting on the piano bench. On the music stand above the keys he found one of his fake books open to a song he’d never tried. “Fucking Perfect” by Pink. Tony read the lyrics and laughed. Leave it to Jethro to find a song he’d never even thought of playing. He closed the book and grabbed the guitar to put it away. As his fingers closed around the neck, he saw the yellow post it.

_ “Just play it.” _

Tony sighed and sat on the bench. He struggled a bit with the chords, still adjusting to strings instead of keys under his fingers. Soon enough, he caved and opened the book.

_ Made a wrong turn once or twice _ __   
_ Dug my way out, blood and fire _ __   
_ Bad decisions, that's alright _ __   
_ Welcome to my silly life _   
  
_ Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood _ __   
_ Miss 'No way, it's all good' _ __   
_ It didn't slow me down. _ __   
_ Mistaken, always second guessing _ __   
_ Underestimated, look I'm still around _   
  
_ Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel _ __   
_ Like you're less than fucking perfect _ __   
_ Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel _ __   
_ Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me _   
  
Tony felt his chest tighten. For all of his whining and childish behavior yesterday, Jethro was still trying to reassure him. He knew he’d never cheat, and he knew they were exclusive, and he’d been an ass for suggesting it. But the slightly younger FBI agent  _ did _ have more in common with Jethro. If they hadn't been thrown into tight quarters, he and Jethro probably would never have connected. He’d have chosen someone more like Morgan. Eventually, maybe he’d figure that out.  __ It would be easier if he figured it out now , Tony told himself.

_ You're so mean, when you talk, _ __   
_ About yourself. You were wrong. _ __   
_ Change the voices, in your head, _ __   
_ Make them like you instead. _   
  
_ So complicated, _ __   
_ Look how we all make it. _ __   
_ Filled with so much hatred _ __   
_ Such a tired game _ __   
_ It's enough, I've done all I could think of _ __   
_ Chased down all my demons _ __   
_ I've seen you do the same _ __   
__   
_ Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel _ __   
_ Like you're less than fucking perfect _ __   
_ Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel _ __   
__ Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me   
  
He choked up at that. It was just a song, it’s not like Jethro wrote the damn thing.

_ The whole world's scared, so I swallow the fear _ __   
_ The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer _ __   
_ So cool in lying and we try, try, try but we try too hard _ __   
_ And it's a waste of my time. _ __   
_ Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere _ __   
_ They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair _ __   
_ Exchange ourselves and we do it all the time _ __   
_ Why do we do that, why do I do that? _ __   
__   
_ Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel _ __   
_ Like you're less than fucking perfect _ __   
_ Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel _ __   
_ Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me _ __   
_ (You're perfect, you're perfect) _ __   
_ Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel _ __   
_ Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me. _   
  
Outside, Jethro's legs were aching with the effort of running. He’d been out here for over an hour, and as much as his body protested, his mind was swimming. An hour, give or take, where he didn't have to worry about anyone but himself. He wasn't being watched, he wasn't watching over his shoulder, he wasn't protecting anyone, he was just... __ being. He waved at moms pushing babies, he nodded at other joggers, he contemplated getting a dog, and he didn't have to worry about the ramifications of any of it.

Lost in his head, he thought about the envelope on his desk. As he suspected, it was the deed and keys to his grandparents’ cabin about an hour north of DC. When they died, it went to his mother, and when she died, his father all but boarded it up. He’d gone up there a few times, romantic weekends with Shannon, taking Kelly fishing, that kind of thing, but he hadn't spent more than 3 days in a row there since he was a preschooler. He didn't even think it had running water. But it was his now.

His car.

His cabin.

His life.

His life was his own. He needed the independence. He could easily sell the cabin, use the money to head to Pendleton for Officer training, and leave the whole shitstorm behind. Some part of him revels in that, and aches to run away. But another part of him realizes he can't abandon Tony. Not because of some debt for freeing him, but, no matter how they got to where they are, he loved him.

The rebellious part of him came forward again. He could sell the cabin, buy a small house here near DC, work for the FBI, and stick around the area for Tony. But then he’d be a retired Marine, largely isolated from the military. As much as he hated the politics, he knew he wanted to help the men and women of the Navy and Marines. He wanted to help them so they wouldn't have to resort to flying to Mexico to avenge their families’ deaths.

But the status quo wasn't going to work either. Staying just to avoid making waves would eventually grate on him. As much as he knew it would hurt Tony for him to leave, not only would he feel too much connection to his slavery, but Tony would likely always wonder if he’d stayed out of obligation.

As he made the final turn to Tony’s house, his muscles started to shake in anticipation of the hot shower he planned. And a decision began to form in his mind. He wouldn't make anything official until they talked, he had promised Tony that, but it would likely be best for both of them.

Tony wasn't sure how long Jethro would be, but he knew he’d be thirsty when he got back. He’d played the song twice now, and once he’d gotten over the eye rolling, now he was horny as hell, and getting a glass of ice water gave him an idea. He stripped out of his clothes, lit the fire, and sat on the couch, two glasses of water and a big cup of ice sat on coasters on the end table beside him. He replayed the events of the previous night in his mind and began lightly stroking himself, squeezing his balls, rubbing a spit-slicked finger over his still sore and sensitive hole.

And the door opened. The burst of cold air made him gasp, and he heard a chuckle behind him. “Y'ok over there?” Jethro asked, as he slumped over to untie his sneakers.

“Mmmmhmmm,” Tony hummed, returning to his earlier activities.

Jethro was exhausted, but he could tell something was up. All he could see was the back of Tony's head, but he had a hunch his lover was naked and horny. He usually was in the mornings. As he walked around the side of the couch, his limp cock and the rest of his exhausted body took notice. Tony was stroking himself slowly, two fingers stretching his ass, eyes closed, and obviously had been there a while judging by the precum collecting across the head of his cock and fingers.

“Waiting for me?”

Tony opened his eyes and nodded. He released his cock and slid the fingers from his ass with an involuntary groan. “Fire’s on, get naked.” His voice was low and raspy, and Jethro didn't hesitate. As he stepped out of his sweats, Tony pulled him onto the couch and slipped to the floor between his knees. “First, water. Hydrate.” He leaned over and grabbed the large plastic cup to sit next to him, and handed Jethro the glass of water.

“Tony, I've been running for an hour...maybe I should shower first…”

Tony looked up at him and smirked, then took his semi-hard cock into his mouth, quickly sucking him to full hardness. He released Jethro and his eyes flicked to the water, “hydrate.”

Jethro sighed and shook his head, but drank the water. “Happy?”

Tony slid his tongue up and down Jethro's length and nodded. “Very.”

Jethro let his head fall back onto the couch as Tony took his cock back in his mouth. He moaned and panted as Tony worked him, quickly toward forgetting just how tired his muscles were. Suddenly, he was gone. Jethro opened his eyes just as he was coming back, his mouth poised back over the head of his cock, but something was different. The breath he felt was cooler, almost cold. And Tony slowly, tentatively, ran the tip of his ice cold tongue along the sensitive ridge of his glans. “Fuck! Jesus, Tony!” Jethro jumped and shivered at the change, and Tony grinned. He spit the ice cube back into the cup and met Jethro's eyes.

“Should I repeat that?” His mouth was drawn into a smirk, his tone seductive, but his eyes were serious. It was a game, but still enough of a change that Tony wanted serious consent before he continued. If he'd just continued, Jethro probably would have refused, but the fact that Tony thought enough to check in, made Jethro  _ want _ to trust him with something that was just a little more than teasing. Ice could hurt, especially on such sensitive skin. But he nodded. Tony smiled and took him back into his warm mouth, bringing Jethro back to full hardness.

Then, just as he registered the jangling of ice cubes, Jethro felt Tony's wet hand wrap around the base of his cock, obviously an ice cube settled in his palm. He jerked and hissed at the feeling, but his body was confused. The hand stroking his shaft was ice cold, the mouth sucking his head impossibly warm. He rocked his body, then writhed under Tony as one hand stilled his hips. The dual sensations were bringing him closer to orgasm, but he'd never cum like this. The cold, hard edges of the ice were like a cock ring, keeping his release at bay.

“Tony…” Jethro reached a hand down to the man between his legs, but Tony used his free hand to grip Jethro's wrist and deliberately place it on the cushion next to him. He backed up just enough to meet Jethro's eyes and pressed firmly on his hand. “Hands off. Got it.” Jethro panted, gripping the edge of the cushion as Tony changed up his technique, keeping him guessing. Sometimes his mouth would disappear entirely, sometimes his hand. Sometimes there was a fast alternating rhythm, where Tony would pull off Jethro's cock, chasing his mouth with his hand, then swallow him to the hilt and run the ice-slicked hand across his belly. Then Tony slid the ice along his balls, rolling them in his hand with the cold cube, making Jethro clench the cushions hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“Fuck, Tony!” Jethro tried to buck his hips into three willing mouth in front of him, but Tony's forearm across his belly tightened, pinning him to the couch. Immediately, Tony's grip loosened and his eyes rose to check Jethro's reaction. He knew this was pushing some boundaries, verging on restraint, verging on pain, and he didn't want Jethro to dislike it or feel violated.

Jethro felt Tony's pause at the same moment his adrenaline spiked. He’d been pinned to the couch, just for a second, but Tony pulled back. His heart pounded even harder, but he trusted Tony, and with everything going on, he was certain he wouldn't have a flashback. He nodded, then threw his head back as Tony plunged his mouth back on his cock.

The ice traveled everywhere, for what seemed like an eternity. His chest and nipples didn't escape the torture either, being frozen into hard nubs, then licked and sucked back to warmth. Cold water pooled in the slight crease of his abdominal muscles, catching in his hair, then running down to settle into his belly button, until Tony lapped it up, his hands disappearing from Jethro's body momentarily. The ice rattled again, but this time it was Tony who gasped. His rhythm on Jethro's cock faltered, but Jethro couldn't see what was happening at his feet. The fact that Tony was touching himself was enough to make Jethro's balls tighten and just as his release approached, Tony wrapped two ice cold hands around him and he yelped in surprise, then moaned as he came back from the brink much faster than usual.

Tony grinned wickedly and climbed up Jethro's body, settling on his lap and kissing him hard. In his mouth was another ice cube, and he passed it to Jethro, who rose up slightly to suck a freezing cold mark on Tony’s collarbone. Tony began rubbing himself along Jethro's length, then reached between them to line Jethro up. He smirked as he plunged down hard, and Jethro arched his back at the sudden change. Tony cried out and shuddered, feeling the stretch as Jethro's wide cock joined the ice he’d just pushed inside himself. Immediately, he started rocking on Jethro's lap until he took charge, grabbing Tony’s hips and plunging deeper into him.

Jethro felt the freezing channel, so different from the usual tight heat of Tony's ass, and all he wanted to do was warm it up. He wanted to fuck him until the ice was fully melted, until the only thing inside Tony was his warm cock, until he flooded Tony with his cum and released any thoughts of the cold water spilling out between them with every thrust.

Tony leaned back, supporting his upper body by leaning on Jethro's knees, until he felt Jethro hitting his prostate just right and he felt his cock harden even more than he thought possible. He keened and cried out to the ceiling and suddenly Jethro had a piece of ice in  _ his _ hand and was stroking him hard and fast. Tony moaned and began grinding himself on Jethro's cock, his body trying to pull back from the edge with the shock of the cold, but the stroking and pleasure from being fucked was winning and just as Tony felt his balls draw up and tighten, Jethro dropped the ice. He gripped Tony with his warm hand and sped up, and Tony exploded into his hand. Seeing Tony so far gone, then feeling the walls of his ass clench around his cock as he came pulled Jethro over the edge and he joined Tony in his release, filling him with hot cum, warming him up from the inside.

Tony collapsed onto Jethro's damp form, groaning when his softening cock slid easily from his dripping hole. Jethro wrapped his arms around his spent lover and sighed. If he moved out, this kind of surprise would be much less common. But sex wasn't a good enough reason to stay, even really great sex.

“Hey,” he whispered, “now we both need a shower. Wanna conserve water?” Tony’s chuckle was muffled by his shirt that had been pushed up and bunched under his armpits. “Then we have some time, we should talk after.” Jethro winced as Tony's previously relaxed body tensed and he stood quickly. He hated ruining the moment, but it would be better to just talk about it and get it over with.   
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](https://youtu.be/4etE6gBslxA) for the song in male voice


	72. Thursday+9 0730

In the shower, Tony kissed Jethro gently. “I like this, you know. I never have before. I’ve had lovers. Lots of lovers. Even been engaged. But I never LIKED the morning after…the sleeping together…I felt trapped if I couldn’t slip out of their beds and come home to my sanctuary for some shut eye. But now…”

Jethro’s heart broke at this confession. “Tony…”    
  
“No, hear me out, ok? You promised we’d talk about this, so I’m talking. If you’re going to leave, you need to know what you’re doing.” Tony ran his hands up and down Jethro’s chest, letting the warm lather slide between them, “I always thought living together would take away the mystery, the excitement. That if someone was available all the time, if I saw them TOO often, it would be less enjoyable. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that. But I was wrong. It’s exciting knowing that I can surprise you when you come home, or that you can wake me with your mouth, or that we can snuggle on the couch at night without worrying about being too tired to drive home.” He paused and looked back into Jethro’s eyes.    
  
“It’s comfortable.” Jethro said, and Tony nodded. “Tony…if I hadn’t been forced to live here, would we have moved in together this quickly?” Tony shook his head. “Isn’t there a small part of you that thinks that I’m here because I was forced here? That I am here because I feel indebted to you? Or that YOU forced me?” He didn’t pull any punches. Rip it off like a band-aid.    
  
Tony looked at him, wide-eyed. “I’d never force you! Ever!”    
  
Jethro sighed, “I know that. But this?” He motioned toward the space between them, “This was pushed into overdrive by the situation. I don’t want us to burn out. I don’t want you to EVER think I’m here because I feel like I have to be.”    
  
Tony rested his forehead on Jethro’s, shivering as the water cooled. They quickly rinsed and stepped out of the shower. Before they could dry off, Jethro pulled Tony close again, wrapping the large bath towel around his waist. “I want to start over. Maybe it’s dumb, but I want to show up in my stupid muscle car, with a handful of stupid grocery store flowers, and take you to a stupid restaurant. I want to take you on a date and then make out in the front seat as if we’d never done it before. I don’t doubt you love me, but maybe, part of you,  _ started _ feeling that way because you felt bad for me, and I want to make sure none of that stays.”

 

Tony closed his eyes and sighed. “You don't want to live with me?”

 

Jethro tucked a finger under Tony's chin and pulled it up until their eyes met, “I do. When the time is right. We know we can do it, we know we want it...let’s work toward it like any other normal couple. Well, maybe a little faster...I'm not 20 anymore,” Jethro said with a chuckle, and Tony smiled. “We’ll have to make the time to woo each other properly. We’ve been winging it, and it’s been easy because we live together and we don’t have to plan or go out of our way. But I don’t want it to be easy. I want to make that effort, and push myself to be there for you, even when it’s hard.”    
  
Tony wrapped the towel around his waist and his arms around Jethro. “You make it sound like a good thing to sleep alone.”    
  
Jethro sighed, “it won’t be good. I’ll miss you. But knowing how much better it will be? It’ll make us work harder to get back here.” He grabbed the vitamin E oil and passed it to Tony.   
  
“Are we setting boundaries? Because I can totally keep you occupied until it’s too late to go home…” Tony grinned mischievously and slid his hand around to Jethro's ass as he turned him to massage the oil into his scars.   
  
Jethro rolled his eyes, “I don’t put out until the third date.”    
  
Tony gasped, “wait, so…you’re withholding SEX? That’s cruel and inhumane!” Jethro turned and he felt a gentle tap to the back of the head.    
  
“Not that we can’t do other things. But let’s wait a while for the big stuff, ok? And split up the sleepovers and dates, instead of always coming here. Like any other fast-moving couple.” He kissed Tony gently, “Let’s just be normal, for once. No Senior, no Slave tracker, no flashbacks to our past traumas, just two federal agents with the hots for each other.”    
  
Tony led them into the bedroom and started dressing for work. “Where will you go?”    
  
Jethro pursed his lips, “I had a few options. The longest term would be buying my own place, which I could do. But I’m still adjusting, I don’t want to make any huge decisions like that right now. The next would be an apartment, but even that’s a year long lease, and I’m not a fan of somewhere I can’t go build something at 2am.”    
  
“So, your best option is to stay here?” Tony asked, hopefully. Jethro gave him a sad smile.    
  
“No, I think my best option is to stay at the cabin my father just gave me.”    
  
“You have a cabin?!” Tony exclaimed, whirling around, shirt hanging loose and fluttering at his waist.    
  
Jethro stared at the flat stomach and was tempted to wrap his fingers around Tony’s waist, but he stopped himself. “Yes. It was my grandparents’, then they left it to my mother when they died. My father can’t make the trek anymore, so it hasn’t been opened up in years, but he gave it to me. It’s rustic, but usable, about an hour north of DC.”    
  
“An hour by normal people standards?” Tony smirked.    
  
“An hour by the way my dad used to drive. So, 45 minutes for me, double that for anyone else.” Jethro relaxed a little, seeing Tony smile. “I want to keep it, regardless, so why not use it? It’s a commute, but not terrible, and if I stay there for 6 months, there’s no worry about breaking a lease. And…” he paused and came up behind Tony as he was working on his tie in the mirror and reached around and grabbed Tony’s groin, hard, “it’s isolated so we can be as loud as we want.”    
  
Tony squeaked in surprise, then thrust toward Jethro’s hand, “you don’t know how loud I can be.” Jethro raised an eyebrow, and Tony grinned, “there are things we haven’t done…but we can discuss that when our relationship is ‘secure’ enough.” He winked and pulled out of Jethro’s grasp.    
  
Jethro felt Tony pulling away. The winking and fake grin were a dead giveaway. “Tony, please. Mixed signals, I’m…” he took a deep breath…”I’m sorry. I want you, I want US, and I never, ever, want you to feel like I don’t. I’m no angel, and I was a crap husband a lot of the time, but I’m trying to fix that. You never know when it’ll be too late.”    
  
Tony closed his eyes and swallowed hard, amazed that Jethro saw through his masks so easily. “People leave, Jethro. They ditch me. Always have. I’m easy to love, easy to leave. Don’t think this will be any different.” He tried to push past Jethro, but was pulled back and pressed against the wall.    
  
“No. You’re not easy to leave, Tony. You weren’t easy for me to love either, with all my issues, but here I am. And I’m NOT leaving.” He punctuated the “not” with a finger to the forehead. “We’re starting fresh, tossing the baggage we had in the beginning. No owner/slave shit, just two consenting adults having dinner tomorrow night.”    
  
“Well, generally I like to eat dinner most nights, so…” Tony tried for more humor, but it fell flat. “You’re asking me out on a date…when do you plan on leaving?”    
  
Jethro tensed his jaw, “soon. Might be best to do this as quickly as possible, especially since…” he hated that he hadn’t told Tony about Saturday’s plan yet.    
  
“Since…?” Tony looked at him expectantly.    
  
“Since Vance has me scheduled to join some FBI agents to nail Buford on Saturday. We need witnesses, and I know the people there, they’re hoping I can get them to talk to me and testify to his abuse.” He rushed through what he needed to say, but held Tony’s gaze.    
  
“Morgan?” Tony asked, and Jethro nodded. “You’re killin’ me, you know that, right? First you want to move out, then you’re going on a trip with the overgrown Ken Doll with a gun fetish?”   
  
Jethro stood his ground, “this isn’t a trip. Buford wasn’t just abusing me, OK? I got under his skin because I was trying to protect the KIDS he preferred. He did what he did to me because I pissed him off, and he WANTED to see me just as helpless as they are. Now I’m not there. And maybe someone else threw themselves on the sword, maybe they didn’t, but if I can help put him away for life, in the general population, then I’m not passing up that opportunity. Morgan feels the same.”  _ Oops. Shit. _   
  
“He feels the same?” Tony stood up straighter.    
  
Jethro sighed. “Yeah. Take from that what you will, I shouldn’t have even said that much.”    
  
From the look on Jethro’s face, he knew. Morgan wasn’t a friend, so he’d probably never hear his story, but it involved Carl Buford. And any story that involved Carl Buford likely involved abuse. And Morgan had been out of Chicago for his entire adult life, which probably meant he’d been young. “OK.” Tony relented. “But stay here until you’re done there. I’ll help you pack and we can get your stuff from Stillwater, but I want at least one more night with you after you’ve sent that son of a bitch up shit’s creek without a paddle.”    
  
“Deal. But we still have reservations for dinner tomorrow night. As long as we don’t catch a case.” Jethro placed a quick kiss on Tony’s lips. “And we’re going to be late for work if we don’t hurry.”   
  
Tony slid his hands down and groped Jethro’s ass as he groaned. “I don’t WANNA!”    
  
Jethro smiled. THIS joking was genuine Tony. “Come on ya whiner. Vance will have your ass if we’re late, and then I’ll be mad.”    
  
“Why?”   
  
“Cuz your ass is MINE.” Jethro growled, playfully. 

  
*****   
  
In the car, Jethro shifted and scratched at his hip. “What about that?” Tony asked, noticing the unconscious action.    
  
Jethro sighed, “not sure. I probably could have it disguised, maybe removed to some extent, but…” he hesitated, and straightened in his seat.   
  
“But what?” Tony could tell Jethro was uncomfortable with having such a glaring reminder of his slavery. The scar from the chip was generic and shapeless, it would fade. But the brand on his hip was something that would forever remind both of them that Jethro was supposed to have belonged to the same person for the rest of his life.    
  
Jethro didn’t want to talk about it. There was a part of him that wanted to claw the brand off his skin with his own fingers. But there was another part that liked the reminder of meeting the person who cared enough to get him out. If Tony hadn’t been forced to brand him, he probably would have passed him off, like Celia, to a kind owner who would make his life tolerable. He’d been a bastard, a troublemaker, a laborer, a smart mouth, but that brand kept Tony going until he succeeded in setting him free. And he’d have done it even if they weren’t together. The fact that he was actually occasionally  _ fond _ of the reminder made him feel ashamed. He drew in a breath, “I’m just not sure. Can we leave it there?” His tone was not exactly a request.    
  
Tony nodded, “and work?” He was pushing, he knew it, but his nerves couldn’t handle another week of waiting.   
  
“I’m not going to Pendleton for the Officer’s training, and I’m not defecting to the FBI. I definitely want to stay at NCIS, I just have to decide if I want to retire from the Marines and keep this title, or if I want to take up the offer of being a reservist and liaison officer. Either way, if the offer still stands at NCIS, I’d like to stay on the team.” Jethro cocked an eyebrow at Tony, who grinned.    
  
“Good, cuz I’d HATE to lose a good agent to the Feebs. I’m already fighting to keep Ned from being stolen by his boy toy.” He was relieved. A liaison officer he could handle, if that’s the change Jethro wanted. He knew this Ziva woman was fighting for a similar position, but he’d rather keep Jethro. Tony reached a hand across the front of the car and placed it on Jethro’s knee. “And then I’d REALLY miss you.”   
  
And Jethro ACTUALLY blushed. He’d deny it under oath, but Tony saw the pink tinge to his ears and did a tiny little victory dance in his seat.   
  
  



	73. Friday+9 1703

“I’ll pick you up at 8,” Jethro whispered to Tony as he grabbed his jacket and spun out of the room.

“Wait, what?” Tony stood and started to follow him, but McGee gripped his shoulder. Tight enough that he knew it was a warning, but not enough for anyone else to pick up on it.

“Let him go. You got reports to finish, anyway, right boss?” His voice was light, his smile just bashful enough that it passed as work McGee, but Tony caught the slight hitch to his eyebrow.

“Guess you're right for once McWorkaholic.” Tony grinned as he leaned back in his chair.

McGee shrugged, “right,  _ and _ done with my report, so...see ya Monday!” He grabbed his coat and jogged toward the elevator, slipping in with Jethro as the doors shut.

Tony grumbled and turned back to his computer. He didn't like when McGee plotted. He was definitely plotting. He checked his watch. 1703. So he had a few hours. Then his phone buzzed with a text from Jethro.

_**LJG** : “I like your stupid suit. Wear it.” _

Tony smiled. To anyone else, that might seem like a brush off or an insult of his suit, but after their talk the other night, he knew it was said with love.

_**Me** : “See you at 2000 in your stupid car.” _

*****

Jethro rolled his eyes as Tim straightened his tie. “You know I still don't like you, right?”

“Yup.” McGee smirked and patted his chest.

“I'm no good at this.” Jethro sighed.

Tim cocked his head to the side and squinted, then disappeared into his bedroom. He returned with a silver bar and Jethro groaned, “you too with the tie bars?”

McGee snorted, “no, I hate them. But Tony loves them. He gave me this one.” He helped Jethro slide it under his tie and grinned. “Now you're good.”

“So, I'm going on a date wearing jewelry he gave his ex boyfriend? Lovely.” Jethro grumbled.

“Hey, I never wore the damn thing. You're a better man than me. Good pick on the suit, by the way, he’ll love it.”

“Spent enough on it. After his little friend insisted on new measurements. I swear he just wanted to grope me.” Jethro ran his hands over the fine navy blue fabric. It did look good.

McGee laughed, “eh, if that's his excitement for the day, just be glad your day is better.” Jethro checked his watch. He had to leave in 15 minutes, but then McGee cleared his throat. “Look, I know you don't like me. But I like Tony and I want him to be happy, so I'm gonna tell you something I'll probably regret.”

Jethro perked up at the tone in his voice. Tim had made a distinct effort to keep himself in the “master Tim” persona pretty much any time they were alone, but this was different. He looked at him and gestured for him to continue.

“You know how I am at work is mostly a mask. It's easier if people see me as a geek. I don't have to defend anything, people talk to me, it's good.” Jethro nodded. “But the other half is just as much of an act. One I enjoy, yes, but it's no more real than 'McGeek.’ The real me is somewhere in between. I can't  _ not _ be a geek.”

Jethro squinted in confusion, “ok, so…?”

McGee sighed and plopped into his computer chair. “So...That's why, even without the job, we wouldn't have worked. I loved him, hell, I still do, just more as a friend or brother, but Tony needs more than a geek. He’s a romantic, yes, and he likes all the mushy stuff. I could do that. But the other stuff? I'm not as hardcore as Tony.”

Jethro crossed his arms and snorted, “could-a fooled me.”

“Yeah. Like I said, it’s an act I enjoy. Sometimes, I can go pretty damn far. But usually I like simpler, softer scenes. I couldn't keep up with him much longer. And he needs someone who can keep up.” Tim stood and his voice dropped again, “don't promise something if you can't deliver, Jethro.”

Jethro puffed his chest and stepped toward McGee, “what kind of threat is that?”

“Not a threat. He told me about your remark about the isolation of your cabin.” Jethro clenched his jaw as McGee continued, “you want to make him scream, great. But if you can't, or won't, he’ll need it. Not just silk blindfolds and rough sex, he needs to be taken down. And he won't want to, but he’ll seek it elsewhere if it gets really bad.” Jethro was shocked, he started to object, but McGee held up his hand, “lastly, if he comes to me for that, I won’t turn him away.”

McGee had outright admitted he would voluntarily cheat with Tony. Jethro felt his fists tighten at his sides, “you wouldn't dare.”

McGee's face was neutral, “yes, I would. I’d rather deal with you in a jealous rage than have him go to someone he doesn't know. He’s done it before, and it doesn't always turn out well. I don't care what's going on between you, if he asks, I won't deny.”

Jethro’s body wanted him to wrestle Tim to the ground and show him what would happen if he dared touch Tony that way. But his brain was telling him to stop and think. He let his brain take over, briefly, and he asked, “he’s done it before? Why didn't it end well?”

McGee relaxed a little, “after we split, when I was new to the team. We got a rough case. Four kids taken off a navy base. Tony found them, beaten, starved, raped, and left for dead. We only saved one. Tony worked 24/7 to solve it, then after it was turned over to the prosecution, I saw him heading for the club. He hadn't gone since we met. When he came back in 3 days later, he was bandaged and bruised and wouldn't talk about it. Eventually, I had to corner him at home and made him kneel and tell me. Some asshole just wanted to 'take’ a cop. Thought it made him big and tough, and he ignored Tony's safe words. I told him, then, that even though we’re not together, I'd never turn him away. It happened a few more times, but eventually he started coming to me. I'll keep my word, even if it means you beating me up afterwards.”

Jethro sighed. “When you say hardcore…”

McGee smirked, “not sure you can handle it, Jethro.” He held up his hands at the growl he received, “I'm just saying...here.” he handed Jethro 2 books. “His hard limits are pretty far. It’d probably be triggering for you, and he’d be able to tell if you're holding back or ashamed of enjoying it. So wrap your head around it before trying to take him down again, ok?”

Jethro looked at the books. One was obviously erotica, “this like that fifty shades of crap book?”

McGee scoffed, “no. That’s desperate housewives bullshit. The consent issues alone made me cringe. This is good stuff. Short stories, some fairly extreme, but it might help you understand some of the thought processes.”

The second book, “ _Different Loving: The World of Sexual Dominance and Submission_ ,” looked like a textbook. “So, you're saying I should learn all of this from a book?”

McGee smirked, “no, I think you’ll be a natural, but the books might help you wrap your brain around your desire to do this, and your apprehension over your past. One more thing...Tony’s a switch. I’m not. Not that I refused him, if he needed to take control, but he could tell it didn't do anything for me. You, however…”

Jethro slammed the books on the counter, “you think it’d do something for me?  _ Master _ Tim?” He spat.

McGee stood his ground. “Yes.”

Jethro surged forward, but stopped when he was chest to chest with the younger agent. “Why? Because I was fucked so much by Buford, I must like it?”

“No. Because you get so defensive over it, and there’s something in your eyes that says your body will fight it every step of the way, but once you get there with someone you  _ trust _ , it’ll blow your damn mind. Getting hard while you were strapped over his spanking bench adds to my suspicions.”

Jethro fought his desire to deck McGee. “Maybe I can take Tony where he needs to go, but you're full of shit there.” he snarled.

Tim nodded, “Ok, ok. You’d better get going if you're gonna grab flowers before you pick him up. And he likes Lisanthus flowers or even carnations over roses.” He picked up the books and handed them to Jethro, who pulled them roughly from his hand and stormed from his apartment.  _ Good luck _ , he thought. He wondered how long it would take before Jethro was willingly cuffed to that same bench as before, begging for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book gets good reviews, but I don't own it...[Different Loving](https://www.amazon.com/Different-Loving-Sexual-Dominance-Submission/dp/0679769560), in case you're interested.


	74. Friiday+9 1954

Tony heard the rumble of the car as Jethro screeched to a halt in front of their... _ his _ ...house. He had kept the suit, but changed his shirt, styled his hair, and added a nicer tie. He chuckled when he heard the doorbell.  _ Stupid doorbell _ , he thought to himself. They both knew damn well the door was unlocked, but he went to the door and opened it anyway. He gasped at the sight.

“Hey,” Jethro said, shyly. He  _ was _ like a blushing teenager, as he handed the flowers to Tony and grinned. 

“Hey yourself. You look…” Tony couldn't even finish. Naked Jethro was certainly his favorite, but this? This was a damn close second. Tied with dress-uniform Jethro.

Jethro pulled at his jacket uncomfortably, “like I'm wearing a monkey suit?”

Tony cupped his face and pulled him close, “like sex on legs. Powerful, confident, sex on legs.”

Jethro smirked and kissed him, stretching his hand down to cup Tony's ass. He didn't care that they were still in the doorway. “Put those in a vase and let’s go. Reservations in 30.”

Dinner was amazing. Something Tony might have chosen himself for a date intended to impress his partner. It wasn't expensive, but classy. Good red wine, candles on the table, and great Italian food. They laughed, held hands, and fed each other tiramisu at the end of the meal. They talked movies, sailing, Tony’s days at FLETC, Jethro's days as a drill sergeant, and quickly avoided anything resembling slavery or children.

Tony asked about Jethro's glass, partially filled with wine. Jethro shrugged, “I just usually choose not to drink. A glass of wine isn't a big deal. Now, if you ever catch me with that rotgut bourbon in your basement,  _ then _ you can worry.” He smiled and took a small sip of the wine, rolling it across his tongue. “You may find it hard to believe, but I actually enjoy the  _ taste _ of a good red wine.”

When the bill came and they were enjoying a final cup of espresso, Jethro took Tony's hand and got all serious. “Tony, I want tonight to be special.”

Tony grinned his wide, goofy grin that would normally melt Jethro into a puddle, if it wasn't covering his renewed insecurity. “It already  _ is _ special. Dates are nice.”

Jethro sighed, “Tony, after tonight, I'll be in Chicago, then when I come back…”

Tony’s grin dropped, “yeah, you're leaving.”

Jethro pursed his lips “I'm not  _ leaving _ , Tony.” Tony sat back in his chair, practically pouting. “We need this. I need this. I want more like this.” He looked at their hands, his thumb stroking across Tony’s fingers. “I want us to get better, not just stay where we were.”

Tony nodded, “I know, I know. Still sucks.”

Jethro gave him a small smile, “well, we do have one more night. And…” he inhaled deeply “I want to make love, Tony.”

Tony smiled and leaned forward, “of course. I planned on that.” He took Jethro's hand between his and frowned slightly, “babe, what's wrong? Your hands are all clammy...are you sick?” He reached up and placed a hand on Jethro's cheek.

Jethro pulled back, “no, I'm fine. Fine. But what you're thinking isn't what I meant.” His heart was pounding. “I want to show you how much you mean to me. I want to give you something I've never given anyone else.”

Tony looked confused for a second, then he gripped Jethro's hand tightly, “oh, god, babe, I can't...you don't  _ ever _ have to do that. I know you love me, ok, I can't ask that.” He looked crushed. “Please, don't think you have to do that.”

Jethro shook his head, “I know I don't have to. I want to.”

“Your pulse and clammy skin say otherwise. I'm an investigator, Jethro, I can tell when someone is scared. I can't imagine you scared of me. Even that day I … even when I _burned_ you, you weren't scared.” Tony was getting upset. Why would Jethro think this would help? What did it say about him? About Jethro's opinion of him?

“Yeah, I'm nervous. But I still want this. And I trust you enough to know that if I need to stop, you will. Which may happen, I'll warn you now.”

Tony caught his gaze and studied him for a long several minutes. Searching for anything that would indicate he was hiding something. He didn't see it. He saw trust. Open affection and trust and love. “Whatever you want. Whatever. I mean that. But  _ this _ ,” he took the last glass of wine from Jethro's hand and set it on his side of the table, “won't be involved.” He smiled and slid his foot across Jethro's calf under the table and Jethro laughed.

“Footsie? Really? Now who’s the teenager?” He grinned and pulled Tony into a toe-curling kiss, before grabbing his receipt and pulling Tony out of the restaurant.

They kissed in the car before they left. 

Tony stroked Jethro's thigh as he drove. 

Jethro pulled over in a darkened parking lot to growl at Tony for distracting him and attack his lips and mouth and stroke his cock through his pants. 

They made out in the driveway. 

They kissed the whole way to the door. Tony was pretty sure he dropped a cufflink in the yard and made a mental note to check in the morning.

It was a blur of hands and lips and kissing and touching until they stood, both partially clothed, in front of Tony’s king size bed. Jethro was wearing only his pants, belt undone, one sock discarded somewhere downstairs, and hastily unbuttoning Tony's shirt. Tony’s pants had been shed on the stairs, his hard cock pressing against Jethro's thigh, and he put his hands on the bare chest in front of him.

“Wait. Jethro, wait.”

Jethro shook his head, “no, don't wanna wait.” He shoved Tony's shirt down and worked his fingers under the hem of his undershirt as he attacked Tony's throat with his tongue. Tony moaned, but pushed back again.

“Look at me.” Jethro rested his forehead on Tony's shoulder, but Tony tucked a finger under his chin. “We've got time. I can't believe  _ I'm _ the one saying this, but… We should slow down, just a bit, 'kay?” Jethro took a breath and nodded. “First things first, I need you to pick a safe word.”

Jethro squinted, “what? Why? I trust you.”

Tony  nodded, “I know you do. But I don't want to risk any sort of confusion. If you tell me to stop, wait, hold on, any of that, I'll just freeze. It’s a pause button. But if you need to end it all, no judgement, nothing, you need something that can't be misunderstood. For me? Please.”

Jethro smiled slightly, “and if I say that word in the middle of everything? If you're close?”

Tony chuckled, “I'll jerk off in the shower after you're asleep. No judgement. Ever.”

Jethro nodded. “Semper Fi.”

Tony smiled, “ooh-rah Marine,” and kissed Jethro gently at first. Quickly, Jethro slid his hands under Tony's undershirt and ran his palms across his stomach. Tony slid his tongue along Jethro's bottom lip, and Jethro moaned. Tony smiled slightly and pushed his tongue into Jethro's mouth as he shoved his pants to the floor.

When they were naked, Tony spun them and landed on his back on the bed. Jethro tried to say something, but Tony just shook his head as he pulled him down and kissed him deeper. As he ran his short fingernails up Jethro's sides, Jethro hissed and moaned into Tony's mouth. Tony kept teasing him with his hands, until Jethro was so gone he didn't even notice the flick of the cap off the bottle of lube.

“Jesus!” He shuddered from the chill, but Tony quickly warmed him by stroking his lubed cock until Jethro was panting and thrusting into his hand. “Not gonna last, Tony,” he grunted, and tried to pull away, but Tony kept stroking.

“I know. I want you good and relaxed.” He grinned and reached his second hand down between them to fondle Jethro's balls and stroke behind them with lubed fingers as Jethro supported himself and kept thrusting. He paused for a second when he felt a finger pass over his hole, but Tony leaned up and kissed him and whispered, “don't stop...just touching,” he reassured, and tightened his grip slightly, adding a slight flick of the wrist over the head that made Jethro groan and drop his head onto Tony's shoulder.

“Shit, Tony…” Jethro was biting his lip, trying not to mumble incoherently as he felt the familiar heat rising in his gut.

As his thrusts began to get faster and more erratic, Tony focused his attentions on Jethro's cock and massaging the outer rim of his hole. “Look at me, Jethro.” Jethro struggled to keep his eyes open as he thrust, and he shifted to one arm to grasp behind Tony's neck with the other. Tony kept stroking, kept whispering to his lover, until Jethro called out his name and kissed Tony hard, still pumping through his release, eyes open and locked on Tony's, even if he felt a little awkward doing it.

Tony brought his hand to his lips and sucked the cum off, “mm, strawberry.”

Jethro laughed and collapsed onto the bed next to Tony, running his fingers through the white streaks on his stomach and licking it clean. Tony pushed him back and crawled between his thighs, licking his way to the over-sensitive skin and sucking small marks on his inner thighs. Jethro shuddered, “you're gonna kill me, Tony.”

As he pushed Jethro's legs back and exposed his still trembling hole, he responded, with a wink, “but at least you'll die happy.” Then he licked a long stripe from Jethro's entrance to the base of his cock. Jethro arched his back and gasped. “I'm just gonna stay here for a while,” Tony grinned as he let his tongue travel along the skin, occasionally nipping, then soothing the spots with gentle kisses, until he pressed his tongue against Jethro's hole and slipped inside.

“Oh God,” Jethro moaned, trying to keep from tensing his muscles. It felt good. Damn good. Tony's tongue was doing wonderful things, and he tried to focus on the fact that he, at nearly 50 years old, was getting hard again so soon after his last release. He ran his fingers through Tony's hair and grinned at the hum of pleasure and the feeling of Tony pressing against his hand.

Tony reveled in the soft gasps and moans coming from his lover. He gently massaged his thighs and ass, occasionally pressing his thumbs along his crease, pulling his hole even further apart. He pulled his tongue out to swirl it around Jethro's balls, and moaned at the sound Jethro made when he returned and easily slipped inside. This time, he added some more strawberry lube and on his next massaging pass of his ass, Tony slipped a finger inside Jethro, briefly, then quickly pulled back out and kept his hands moving. They'd gone this far before, once, but he wanted to ease Jethro into this as slowly as possible. He’d take all night if he needed to. And if it meant hearing the delicious noises he was  getting, then maybe taking all night would be a very good thing.

After several minutes, Tony slipped two fingers inside Jethro and brushed his prostate, causing him to shake and curse. Tony pushed his fingers in and out just a few times before withdrawing, and he heard the sound he always listened for. Jethro made a small sound in the back of his throat that was  _ definitely _ a whimper. With that, Tony pulled his body up and slid across Jethro's skin, rubbing himself gently across his now achingly hard cock. “You're on top,” he whispered, as he worked his mouth along Jethro's neck and jaw.

Jethro tensed. Tony waited, kissing, caressing, licking, until the tension eased. “Tony, I want…”

“I know. But you're more in control if you're on top to start. We can switch when you're ready.” Tony usually hated talking logistics in the heat of the moment, but Jethro needed to know he had complete control. He nodded and Tony laid on the bed, then helped Jethro's still unsteady legs straddle his hips. He pulled Jethro down into a kiss and reached between them with both hands. One lube-slicked hand wrapped around both of their cocks, the other slid behind his balls and brushed over his exposed hole. “Gonna stretch you like this, babe. It's all gonna feel good. No pain, no rushing, just you and me and this strawberry lube.”

Jethro smiled, “you're a dork.”

“I'm  _ your _ dork,” Tony responded, and slipped his two fingers back inside Jethro. The pair writhed together, precum mixing with lube, Tony's fingers scissoring and pulling Jethro open so slowly and gently it didn't hurt at all. When he added a third finger, he was rewarded with a deep moan, and Jethro bucked his hips onto his fingers. Tony kept gently spreading Jethro until he was sure he was ready. Physically. And he couldn't take much more stroking himself, or he'd never make it past his own hand. He pulled his fingers from Jethro and wrapped them around just Jethro's cock. At first, Jethro just shifted his position and thrust into Tony's hand again, but quickly he froze.

Tony pulled him back down for another kiss and pushed his cock down to slide across Jethro's entrance, along his well-lubricated crease, and gently thrust against him, until Jethro sat up. “Switch.” He ordered. Tony grinned and scrabbled around Jethro as he lowered himself onto his back. Tony hovered over him, peppering his body with gentle kisses, until Jethro pulled him up and kissed him hard, then growled, “Tony…” he reached between them and stroked Tony's cock, making him gasp and shudder, until Tony retrieved the bottle of lube again and slicked himself. When he felt Tony start to press against his entrance, he tensed. “Wait.” He took a few breaths after he felt Tony pull back. Then Tony's hand was on his cheek and he opened his eyes. “You really would stop, right now, if I asked?”

Tony nodded. “Are you? It’s ok, we can just stick with this,” he wrapped his hand around both of their erections, but Jethro shook his head.

“No. I trust you.” To Jethro's surprise, just knowing that Tony had stopped immediately, and had no problems with going a totally different direction, put his mind and body at ease. It was safe.  _ Tony _ was safe. He pushed Tony's hand away and guided Tony toward his goal, then rocked his hips slightly to feel the pressure. “Just...slowly, ok?”

Tony kissed him and pressed forward, just a little. Just enough to begin to open his lover. “Of course. Anything for you.” Jethro gasped when he felt the stretch, and was shocked when it felt...good. Just good. Tony carefully continued, biting his lip to keep himself under control until he was fully seated deep inside Jethro's body. The whole time he talked. He told Jethro how good he felt, how amazing he was, how much he loved him, and Jethro just...felt. He felt Tony's love in his words, in his body, saw it in his eyes, until he realized Tony was shaking.

“Tony,” he grunted, then shifted his hips and changed the angle making Tony whine, “move.”

Tony looked at him for a second, unsure of what he was saying, until Jethro thrust his hips slightly and raised an eyebrow. Tony smirked, “pushy bottom.” Jethro thought about giving him a head slap, until Tony pulled back and thrust against his prostate, making him forget everything except his leaking cock.

They rocked together, sometimes soft and slow, sometimes faster if Jethro wanted. Tony let him run the show, until it was getting to a point where he couldn't keep going much longer. Tony was about to say something when Jethro reached between then and grasped his own cock. “Together, Tony?” Tony nodded and covered Jethro's hand with his own, thrusting faster, letting Jethro's hand guide his pace until he felt him start to tense and his pace stuttered. “More, Tony...god, more, please,” Jethro arched his back and Tony pushed deeper inside him, angling his hips to make sure he hit his prostate every time, a little harder and faster than before, and Jethro’s body stilled for a split second before he shouted Tony's name and his hand sped up on his cock as it pulsed with his release.

Feeling Jethro tighten around him was more than Tony could handle. He thrust twice more into Jethro's body and cried out his name as he followed his lover over the edge.

When Tony lay next to Jethro and had caught his breath, he looked closely at Jethro. His face was stoic, almost absent, until Tony touched his cheek. Jethro started slightly, but nothing changed. Tony was instantly concerned. “Jethro? Hey, look at me.” He tried turning his head to look in his eyes, but Jethro turned away. “No, no, no, don't do that. Please. Please look at me?” He felt Jethro's breath start to falter, and he closed his own eyes and forced himself to stay calm. Tony just wrapped his lover in his arms, even if he was facing away from him, and held him close. “I love you.”

Those words broke the dam, and Tony felt Jethro's body shaking from the sobs wracking his body. He pulled him as close as he could, covered them with the blankets, and stayed present and awake until he felt Jethro drift off to sleep. He wasn't unfamiliar with intense emotions after intense sex, and with Jethro's history, he wasn't entirely surprised either. He knew the man would be embarrassed in the morning, but he'd deal with that when they got there.


	75. Saturday+10 0530

Tony's alarm beeped and he woke, hazy-eyed, alone in the bed. “Damnit,” he mumbled, and walked, zombie-like, to the stairs. Jethro wasn't in the kitchen, and no smell of coffee met his nose. “Double damnit.” Then he saw the light on in the basement.

Jethro was sitting on his workbench, sweatpants and an old OSU t-shirt covering his still-damp body. “Hey,” Tony called from the middle step.

Jethro looked up and gave Tony a small smile. “Hey yourself.”

“Woke up alone…” Tony sent him a fake pout and opened his arms. Jethro rolled his eyes, but hopped off the bench and pulled Tony into an embrace.

“Wasn't gone long, I just got out of the shower. Was gonna go for a run, but it feels…” he lowered his eyes and didn't finish.

“Feels like you had sex, and running will make it worse?” Tony completed his thought, and Jethro nodded. Tony kissed his forehead and didn't say anything else.

“Sorry.” Jethro mumbled.

“For what?”

“Last night. Not very sexy,” Jethro scoffed, and Tony smiled and kissed him.

“Last night was _very_ sexy.” Tony assured him.

“Until the last bit.” Jethro grumbled.

Tony shrugged, “I ever tell you about my first time?” Jethro gave him a look that said _'really?’_ but Tony continued. “Not my first time ever, but the first time I ever did something that really pushed my limits?” Jethro wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he shrugged, so Tony pulled back and sat on the stairs. “College, junior year. One of my frat brothers invited me to this club. I went figuring I'd be a hetero top, all the way. First few hours, I tried my damnedest, but no self-respecting sub, male or female, would say more than five words to me. Finally, I just grabbed a drink and sat at the bar when I heard a voice I knew. My anthropology professor. We talked for a while, and then went home. Three nights later, I went back and saw him at the same spot at the bar again, and he told me if I was interested, I couldn't drink. I dunno why, but I passed him my beer, and that was that. Went back to his place, and…” Tony took a deep breath, “it was good. Real. We talked. I thought it was gonna be a bust, but the guy was hot, so I went for it. Used to be on a sub in the Navy, then did some aquatic research on pirate ships. Pirates, for fucks sake!”

Jethro raised his eyebrows at Tony, “always had a thing for military guys, then?”

Tony shrugged, “Sorry, tangent. Anyway, he was hot. Moving on. That night, we didn't do anything extreme. Not by my current standards anyway. But he took me places inside of me that I didn't know existed. And I cried. For hours. Twenty one years old, alpha male jock, sobbing at the intensity, and the rush of endorphins, and the adrenaline crash, and all of it. And he never thought less of me for it. He taught me everything he knew. He took me through it. It was an amazing year.” Tony kissed Jethro, “you trusted me with your body _and_ your emotions. There's nothing sexier than that.”

Jethro still felt childish, but he saw Tony's point. He sighed and checked the clock, “I have an hour.” Tony waggled his eyebrows and winked, but Jethro could tell it was half hearted. “Let's have breakfast.” He wanted to just enjoy Tony's company. He wasn't up for sex just yet.

*****

“How come WE can't have a JET?!” Tony whined.

Jethro rolled his eyes, “the vast majority of our cases are local, Tony, why would we need a jet?”

Tony pouted. “Agent Muscles over there is hot, younger than me, appreciates woodworking, AND he has a jet? I'm doomed.”

Jethro smiled and tapped the back of his head, “not _his_ jet, Tony. And I'll be back soon.”

Tony sighed and hugged Jethro tight. “Nail him to the wall, Jethro. Don't you come back until you do.”

“Alright, lovebirds, jet’s leaving in 3 minutes!” Morgan shouted from the door of the plane. Tony narrowed his eyes and glared at him, but Morgan just slipped back inside and plopped onto one of the seats across from Hotch. “He’s got a serious issue with me, man.”

Aaron looked at him over the papers in his hands. “You're our team’s version of him. Ex cop, crap childhood, flirtatious, outwardly confident, and a damn fine Agent...a lot of the things he knows attracted Agent Gibbs in the first place. And now that their legal status has changed, he's concerned.”

Morgan rolled his eyes, “concerned? About what?”

“I’ll find you more attractive because you don't remind me of the past 15 years.” Gibbs said, standing behind Morgan.

Morgan jumped and glared at Hotch, who’d obviously seen his approach. He just smirked and returned to his paperwork. Gibbs settled into a seat and pulled out a cabinetry magazine and Morgan looked between them. “You two are peas in a pod too. Hell, in another life, you’d probably have been running the team for a decade, Gibbs.”

They both glanced at each other and shrugged, then silently returned to their reading. Morgan sighed, slouched in his seat, and grabbed his headphones. It wasn't that long of a flight, but he’d catch some sleep if he could.

Sooner than they’d expected, the pilot informed then they’d be landing. Hotch sat up and handed them each a file. “We’ll be meeting some locals when we get there. LEO and Chicago field office. Gibbs, you’ll be going to the estate. You're leading that investigation, and if anyone has issues taking your orders, they’ll have to deal directly with me.” He barely waited for a head nod before turning to Morgan, “You’ll be coming downtown with me, and we’ll be canvassing the area and the community center.” Morgan nodded and gathered his things, but Hotch stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Take a breath. Both of you. I’ll let them know the plan.” He grabbed his briefcase and strode out the door.   
  
“Take a breath? Come on Hotch.” Morgan mumbled.   
  
“Not a bad idea, kid.” Gibbs said, his fingers rubbing his temples.   
  
Morgan glared at him, “I’m not a _KID_ , Gibbs.”   
  
Gibbs huffed, “y’are to me. Look, we gotta be the cool, calm, collected ones if anyone’s gonna talk to us. You’re wound tighter than a rattlesnake. And you’re gonna come off as just as deadly.”   
  
“Oh, and you’re all fine with this?” Morgan put his hands on his hips and glared behind his sunglasses.   
  
“No. But I’ve gotta look like it. We’ve gotta act like it. These people have to know it can be OK.” Gibbs stood and started to pass Morgan, putting a hand on his shoulder and pausing as he passed, “we’ll get him. You can do this.”   
  
Morgan stood alone on the plane, his head thrown back and staring at the ceiling. Gibbs was right. Hotch was right. Goddamnit, he needed to just BREATHE.   
  
*****   
  
Gibbs strode into the house through the front door, shoulders back, head high, meeting the eyes of every LEO in the room. They all knew who he was, who he’d BEEN, and while he could tell some of them had an issue taking his orders, none had outright said anything. His eyes ran over the line of slaves he’d asked to be brought to the front room. None raised a glance, but he recognized about half. He settled on the cook. Maria. A short, stout, and kind older woman, who always knew everything that happened in and out of the house. He told the FBI agent nearest to him to get the people some water and food while he talked with her. Maria never raised her eyes as Gibbs stood in front of her and gently reached for her elbow. She went willingly, slightly trembling, not knowing where she was being taken, or by whom, but not daring to look up. Gibbs knew the house well, and took her into a small parlor with a pocket door. He maneuvered her to a chair and slid the door shut behind them. When they were alone, Gibbs turned back and noticed Maria had tears on her cheeks as she stood in front of the chair.   
  
“Maria?” She refused to look at him. Instead of tipping her chin up, he dipped himself down to meet her eyes. “Ria? It’s Jethro. Do you remember me?” He knew she might not recognize him. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been thinner, bruised and pale from neglect and abuse, kept in torn linen or knit pants and nothing else. Now he was healthy, he’d been sleeping well, and he was wearing decent clothing and a jacket and cap emblazoned with the letters NCIS. She inhaled sharply at the name, but still avoided looking directly at him. “Ria, it’s me. You can look at me, OK? He can’t hurt you. I’m back. I brought backup.” This time, she glanced at his face. Relief spread across her features and she fell backwards onto the chair. Jethro knelt in front of her.   
  
“He said you died, baby. He said he killed you as an example.” She threw her arms around Jethro and he grunted as he was pressed against her chest and ample bosom, her hands petting his hair like she would a child. “I was so sad. We had a little funeral for you baby. I baked your favorite muffins.”   
  
Jethro smiled and patted Maria’s back, “I’m still here, Ria.” He mumbled into her skin. “but I gotta breathe too.”   
  
“Oh, my, I'm sorry.” She pushed him back and straightened his jacket collar, then brushed her fingers through his hair. She took a deep breath in and studied his features, until her eyebrows drew together. “Something’s different.”   
  
Jethro snorted, “yes. I’m clothed.”   
  
She frowned at him, “not like that. Your new owner has let you do this alone? Without a collar? You are that trusted?”   
  
Jethro actually felt himself blush. Maria had cared for him at his worst. She was only about 9 years older than him, but she’d been the closest thing to a mother he had had in a long time. “No, Ria. I don’t have an owner. Not anymore.”   
  
Maria gasped. She grabbed his collar and pulled the buttons open searching for a collar. He let her manipulate him until she was satisfied he wasn’t lying. “You…you’re free? You got out? You got away?”   
  
Jethro nodded. “And now I’m here to help everyone here. People have been trying to nail Carl for years, but nobody here would talk. He’s too influential. He’s awful. And if he ever came back here, if someone had talked, they’d suffer. But he’s in jail right now for something else, and I’m here to convince you all to tell us what happens here.”   
  
Maria turned her head, “You know what happens, baby.”   
  
Jethro sighed, “Yeah, I do. But they can’t use just my testimony. What happened to me…they can’t do anything about that. Or you. Or any of the others over 15 years old. But I know he takes kids. Kids are protected, even slaves. We HAVE to get him. And if we get him here, and my friends get him on the Free kids I know he likes, he’ll NEVER come back. Maria, can you help me?”   
  
Maria sniffled, “yes. He’s really gone?” Jethro nodded. “Not coming back?”   
  
“Not if we get witnesses.”   
  
Maria straightened her shoulders and looked him right in the eye. “first things first.” She stood and shuffled quickly to Carl’s office. Her hand shook as she reached for the door, but she didn’t pause. She barged in and grabbed his keys from inside his drawer. His ‘special’ keys. “We need to get Kenneth.”   
  
Jethro followed Maria down the familiar hallway. Usually he’d only had the opportunity to view the carpet as he was dragged down it, but he knew exactly where he was going. “Ria…wait.” He placed a hand on her arm as she went to unlock the door. “How long?”   
  
She swallowed, “about 4 months. He’s young. Strong.” Jethro took the key from her hand and opened the door.   
  
The young man in front of him made him gasp. He’d forgotten some of what Carl had done to him, pushed it out of his mind, but it came slamming back now, seeing the obviously once strong body suspended from the ceiling, blindfolded and gagged. He’d heard the door open and was tense and shaking in anger. He tried to spit around the gag, but Jethro stayed back. He may have been kept on a very meager diet for a month, but this boy was still strong, and he was too far gone right now to be reasoned with. As much as he hated it, Jethro left the cuffs on him. Without a word, he untied the blindfold and waited as his eyes seemed to adjust to the light. Calmly, quietly, he spoke. “Kenneth, I need you to listen to me. I’m here to help, but I can’t release you until you’re calmed down a bit ok? I’m too old to take a beating, and I won’t hurt you, so I need you to be able to get control, OK?” The fury in the young man’s eyes ebbed a bit, and Jethro reached for his face. He flinched away, and Jethro pulled his hand back. “getting the gag. Not gonna touch you. Can I do that?” The look on Kenneth’s face was confused, Jethro continued, “I won’t touch you without your permission unless there is imminent danger. That includes the gag. Can I remove it?” Kenneth nodded once, and Jethro slowly unclasped the buckle behind his head and pulled the knot from his mouth.   
  
“Who the FUCK are you?!” Kenneth shouted, then flinched at the echo in the room and the sound of his hoarse voice.   
  
Jethro stayed calm, “My name is Jethro. Maria is here with me. We’re getting you out of here, but only if you can come with me safely.”   
  
“Bullshit. This is some head game. He wants me to escape with you, then you can drag me back here and you both can punish me some more. Screw that. You get me down from here and I’ll fucking kill you, and you know it. Tell him his games won’t work. Just kill me.” Kenneth lunged at Jethro and the chains above his head rattled. Jethro sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. He didn’t doubt the kid’s words.   
  
“Kenneth Robert Short, you stop this nonsense right now.” Maria’s harsh words cut through Jethro’s thoughts. And Kenneth’s, apparently. She pushed between them and stood in front of the young man, hands on her hips, glaring. “Jethro is here to help. You need help. Let him get your ungrateful behind down from there so we can get you fed and clothed. I trust him with my life, and so should you.”   
  
The tough love seemed to have an effect, and Kenneth stared at her in shock. Jethro raised his eyebrows behind her and he saw the slump of the shoulders that told him it was safe. He kissed Maria’s temple as she moved out of the way, and he approached the bound man again. “Can I get you down? Might have ta catch you. Your legs probably are a bit unsteady.” Kenneth nodded, and Jethro reached up and unhooked the cuffs from the hook in the ceiling. Immediately the young man collapsed into him and he held him tight.   
  
After several minutes of Jethro supporting Kenneth and stroking him like a child, the man found his bearings. He stood, slightly wobbly, but with pride, and declared, “I’m fine. Thanks.”   
  
Jethro nodded and straightened his jacket. “you will be.” He gave him a once over and noticed he wasn’t branded, had no collar, and he had military tattoos. He looked to be early 20s. He obviously hadn’t been a slave long. “Navy?” he asked.   
  
Kenneth nodded. He ran his hand through his shaggy hair and sighed. “Need a damn haircut.”   
  
Jethro gasped when he saw the hair fall back into place. “Kenneth, can I see something? Just need to look behind your ear.” The young man tensed, but nodded, and Jethro lifted his hair. There was no scar. On either side. “Ken, are you a slave?”   
  
He backed up fast, “what the fuck kind of question is that? No! Sonofabitch bought me a goddamn drink, next thing I know, I’m chained up here!”   
  
Jethro held up his hands, “I had to ask. He’s only ever done this to slaves before. As far as we know. Good news is…we can nail the bastard for what he did to you.” He felt Maria’s hand on his arm and he nodded at her as he turned and left the room, his phone already in hand.   
  
Ken sat on the cot and drank the water Maria offered him as she’d done many times before. “What’s up with him?” he asked, relieved to be free of the bonds, even if it was temporary. He’d read the jacket that said NCIS and knew the man would do what he could, but Carl had connections. He could weasel out of even these charges.   
  
Maria smiled sadly, “baby, he used to _be_ you. ‘cept he was a slave…can’t prosecute Carl for what he did to him.”   
  
Ken fought the urge to punch the wall. Maria didn’t need to see him hurt any more. He hugged her and she helped him stand and follow Jethro into the hall.


	76. Saturday+10 1132

“Not just your case anymore, Hotch.” Jethro growled into his phone. “I've got a kidnapped sailor here, which puts it in NCIS’s sandbox. I want my team on the next flight.” He hit the red button without waiting for a response, then immediately dialed Tony. 

_“Hey. Miss me already?”_  

Jethro sighed. He really did miss the man, confronting his past wasn't easy, but they had business. “Maybe, but that's not why I'm calling. Just pulled a young man out of chains and found out he's Navy. Kidnapped. FBI should be clearing you, McGee, and Abby to join me here ASAP.”

_“Heading to Vance's office now.”_ Tony said, as the call was disconnected. 

“So, this wasn't an NCIS case?” Kenneth asked, standing behind Jethro. 

“Is now.” 

“Good. I trust you more than some feeb.”

Jethro nodded, “let's get you checked out, cleaned up, and maybe you can help me convince the others around here to help the feebs?”

Ken winced at the probing hands of the paramedics, and shuddered at the taste of the nutrition drink they practically forced down his throat, but Jethro stood with him and he refused to go to the hospital. All business, they worked together to talk to the staff and got Carl dead to rights on 8 counts of sexual abuse and statutory rape, on top of the kidnapping and rape of the young Petty Officer himself. By late afternoon, the NCIS team was on site, and Jethro barely contained his desire to wrap Tony in his arms.

“You made this guy work the case with you? That's cold, Jethro!” Tony shook his head.

“Hey, I'm fine. We nail this bastard for all we can, and I wanted to help. Gunny didn't ask, I offered.” Ken narrowed his eyes and straightened his shoulders. Jethro knew he wasn't fine, mentally, but this gave him a mission. He’d be OK today. And tonight he’d be in the hospital, Jethro would make sure of that.

Once Jethro was sure everything on the FBI case was being handled properly, he sent McGee and Abby to catalog all the evidence from the cell where Ken had been kept. He knew he’d left evidence of his own times there—carvings in the walls, mostly—but he’d have to trust them to sort it all out. And if there had been others kidnapped, they needed to know. He and Tony took Ken back to the small parlor, making Maria stomp and huff when she couldn’t come in, to take his full statement. Turns out, the young man was gay, and flattered at the attentions of the older wealthy Carl. Even though DADT wasn’t a legal issue, being out in the Navy was not a pleasant thing, so he’d traveled about 45 miles from where he’d said he’d be taking leave to go to a Chicago gay bar. Buford had drugged his drink and carried him to his home. He claimed he ‘missed’ the challenge of his last military ‘bitch’—they all assumed he was referring to Jethro. That no more slaves had stepped up to be as ‘responsive.’ Tony felt the bile rising in his throat, but Jethro was calm and supportive as the young man described the sadistic torture he had endured in those short months.  
  
When Ken couldn’t talk anymore, Jethro put a hand on his forearm. “Your parents are on their way, son. We should get you to the hospital.”  
  
Ken’s eyes grew wide, “no, you can’t tell them what happened! It’s my own goddamn fault. If I hadn’t gone looking for it…if I wasn’t a goddamn queer, this wouldn’t have happened.”  
  
“Stop.” Jethro snarled. “Let me ask you something. If a woman goes into a bar, has her drink drugged, and is kidnapped, beaten, and raped, would you tell her it’s her own fault?”  
  
Ken shook his head. “I’m no fucking woman.”  
  
“Doesn’t make it your fault. You think what happened to me was my fault? I’m a damn Marine.” Jethro challenged.  
  
Ken looked a little afraid, “but you’re not…”  
  
Jethro shocked Tony by placing a hand on his thigh. “Not what?” Tony followed his lead, and draped his hand on top of Jethro’s.  
  
Ken met both of their eyes, and they nodded. “oh.” He sighed, “but my parents won’t care. They’re from Texas. We don’t have queers in Texas.”  
  
“Bullshit.” Jethro straightened. “They’ll just be happy you’re safe now. They don’t like that you’re gay, they can deal with that later. Right now, you’re just their son they’ve been missing for months.”  
  
Finally, Ken agreed to go to the hospital. His parents were still waiting for their flight, but had called Jethro’s number to speak to him. By the time he got to the hospital, he was exhausted. Maria stayed by his side as he drifted off to sleep in the bed, and Jethro came into the waiting room to brief Tony. “If he didn’t sleep, they were going to sedate him. His body is just run down. Healed rib fractures, stress on his joints might cut his Naval career short, depending on how he heals, muscular atrophy, tinnitus from being struck in the head and previous concussions, scars mostly focused on his back and cheeks that should heal fairly well.” He might as well have been reciting a list of his own injuries. “They put him on IV nutrients, fluids, and are keeping him overnight at least.”  
  
Tony nodded, “and you?”  
  
Jethro shrugged, “fine.”  
  
Tony gave him an exasperated look, “I’m not an idiot, Jethro.”  
  
Jethro narrowed his eyes, “I’m fine right now. I have to be. Anything else we’ll deal with when we’re alone.”  
  
Tony accepted that, “OK. Oh, by the way, Vance didn’t want to spring for additional rooms, so…McGee and Abby are sharing, and I’m gonna bunk with you. Let the FBI pay for my room. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He winked, and Jethro smiled slightly.  
  
“Sounds good. Now, the parents come, you let me know so I can talk to them first.” Jethro turned on his heel, without any of the love or affection Tony had started getting used to, and pushed his way back toward Ken’s room. Tony settled back into his seat with a pout, but before he could start overthinking Jethro’s departure, his phone rang.  
  
“Dinozzo… Yeah, fine, but you’re coming here. I’ve got an injured Petty Officer and worried parents due to arrive in a few hours… I’ll get Ducky on the phone, see you soon Hotch.” Tony tapped the ‘end call’ button and sighed. How he ended up ‘slave placement extraordinaire,’ he didn’t know. They had 8 slaves that had no family connections or prior owners who they’d like to return to, and they all wanted to make sure that, after the trials, they wouldn’t just end up on the auction block. He opened the keypad and hit speed dial 5.  
  
_”Hello my dear boy. I certainly hope we do not have a body requiring my attention_.”  
  
Tony shook his head, although his friend couldn’t see it, “No, Duck. I need help from your other specialty.”  
  
” _Forensic psychology? You need a profile? I thought your friends at the BAU were assisting with this case? My meager skills pale in comparison, Anthony.”_  
  
“No Duck, I need some help placing some slaves. After all they’ve been through, I can’t let them go back to the auction block once the trials are over.”  
  
_”I’d expect nothing less. First things first, how ARE things going? I presume the bloody lowlife piece of shit is incarcerated?”_

  
Tony stared at the phone in shock, “Did you just curse, Duck?” he heard a huff on the other end of the call.  
  
” _While it is not often a part of my repertoire, I do have the ability, Anthony. You seem to forget I used to be in the Royal Air Force. Almost as debauched as American sailors, I do believe.”_  
  
Tony snorted at the thought of one of his best friends and mentors cursing like a sailor.  
  
” _And there are situations that frankly require a good cussing. In fact, there was one time--”_  
  
“I agree, Duck.” Tony interrupted before Ducky got too far into his tangent, “And yes, the bloody lowlife piece of shit is incarcerated. Currently on white collar IRS tax evasion and he was arraigned this evening for the kidnapping and assault of Petty Officer Short. The BAU is still gathering their case for the child abuse. That’s not going as well, unfortunately. Too much pride and fear still.” Tony stood up and started pacing.  
  
” _That is to be expected. Which is exactly why Jethro and Agent Morgan are there. Hopefully we can settle this case quickly and he can focus back on his original purpose. That being said, you said you required assistance with slave placement?”_  
  
“Yeah, Duck. Eight of them. We tried finding people who owned family members, or old owners, but these we had no luck, or the old owners were pieces of shit too. I hate this, but I know we can’t free them all. I just want them to be OK. I can email you their info, maybe we can video call about this. Hotchner and one of the local field office feebs are coming over here now.”  
  
” _Alright, Anthony. I’ll wait for your email and start talking to some of my contacts to see if they know of anyone looking for additional staff. Talk to you soon.”_  
  
The call ended, and Tony spoke to one of the nurses to request the use of a small conference room near PO Short. It had a good line of sight down the hall through the window, and he’d be able to see when the parents arrived. He sent Ducky the information and waited in the hall for the FBI agents to arrive, watching Jethro and Maria through the glass of the door. He could tell Ken was still asleep, by the attention Maria was lavishing on Jethro. She was talking, fumbling some sign language, trying to straighten his hair, and just overall doting on him. He stood up for a second, but she pointed at the chair, and he rolled his eyes as she got him a glass of water. Tony laughed to himself at just how grumpy Jethro was, but Maria didn’t seem to notice. Or care. She kissed his forehead, she rubbed lotion on some of the scars that were visible, and as grumpy as he was, Jethro didn’t push her away. Tony had never seen him like this, except the few times he and his father were truly open with each other. It made sense, really. The woman had cared for him through the most horrible time in his life. Tony covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t separate them. Then an idea sparked in his mind. He looked at Maria closer. She wasn’t THAT much older…the same age, or maybe a few years younger than Ducky…and attractive, for her age…and Ducky wasn’t getting any younger…if Tony could convince him to take her into his home, maybe… Yes. That was it. He’d convince Ducky to take her, and Ducky would totally fall in love with her, and everything would work out just fine.  
  
*****  
  
“Duck, come on! She’s awesome! She’s a cook, too, and Jethro says she loves making different things, and it’s always amazing!” Tony whined at the screen.  
  
“Anthony, I understand where you are going with this. I’m sure she is a lovely person, but I do not have the ability to have anyone else in my home right now. Celia won’t be due for her freedom for quite a while, and by that time, I’m certain Mother will be passed, and I’ll have no need for any more assistance in my home. You pressured me once, young man, but I won’t allow it to happen again.” Ducky’s voice was more stern than Tony had thought possible, and he felt thoroughly scolded. “Why don’t you ask her what she would prefer? Frankly, considering he is Free, even Jethro could sign her papers and take her. Have you asked him?”  
  
Tony shook his head, “Duck, I can’t ask him to OWN someone, when he’s had the worst 15 years of his life being owned by other people!”  
  
“So, what is your excuse? If you’re that concerned, it is certainly a possibility. You have the room, dear boy.” Ducky smirked.  
  
Tony groaned, “thanks for rubbing salt in a wound. Yes, I know, I’ll be all alone in my big stupid house, because my…lover? Boyfriend? Whatever he wants to be called…is moving out.” He knew he was pouting, and the FBI agents chatting at the other end of the table would probably think less of him, but he didn’t care. It was part of his persona anyway. “I’ll talk to her. She’s been taking care of PO Short for a while too, there’s a chance his family would welcome her.”  
  
“That sounds like a viable option as well. But do consider her wishes.”  
  
“I will, Duck. I promise.” Tony ended the call and cleared his throat. “So, we’re just left with Ms. Rodriguez. I have a few ideas, but I’ll need to talk to her.”  
  
The two agents across the room nodded, and stood to shake his hand. “Thank you, Agent DiNozzo. You’ve been a great help. Now, we just need to work on gaining some more of these peoples’ trust.”  
  
Tony glared at Agent Hotchner, “why should they trust any of us? They’re slaves. We are Free. How can we expect them to trust the people who exist just to use them?” He knew his anger was irrational, but he’d been holding it back too long already. “I don’t expect any of them to trust us. Least of all the worst abused. It’s not like we’re doing them any great service, just tossing them to yet another person who will use them. Maybe they won’t be abused, but they’re still treated like _things_ instead of people.”  
  
Hotch knew Tony was not angry at him, but at the situation, and he kept himself neutral. His opinion on slavery was not of importance in this, one way or another, and he simply nodded. “It’s true, we can’t change their status. But we can get some justice for the abuse. It’s more than we can do for others, and whether or not they feel like we’re treating them as objects or possessions, we have to try to help them understand that we _care_.”  
  
Tony huffed. He couldn’t figure this guy out. He knew the stoic neutral face was a mask, and he caught glimpses of some nasty darkness inside, but it wasn’t evil. He was a good man, and very good at his job, and he had a point. “Even an owner can care about their dog.” He mumbled.  
  
Hotch met his eyes, “if that’s how they need to see it, I’ll take it.”  
  
Over the FBI agent’s shoulder, Tony saw a commotion as a couple in their 40s pushed down the hall, looking frazzled and panicked. “There’s my cue,” he said, throwing on a smile as he slipped out the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Short?” they stopped in their tracks and stared at him. “I’m Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” he said, as he knocked gently on the door behind his back. “I’m with NCIS, that’s Naval Criminial Investigative Service, and we would like to talk to you before…” The door opened and Jethro was beside him, shutting the door quietly.  
  
“Elena? Todd?” The couple nodded, “I’m Jethro, we spoke earlier. Ken is resting right now, would you please, come with me?” He gestured toward a tiny room labeled ‘Chapel.’ Tony went to follow, but Jethro shook his head curtly. He could tell Tony was hurt by the action, and he saw the flash of anger in his eyes, but this wasn’t something that needed to be shared. He knew it all already, but the family didn’t need additional ears hearing what their son had endured.  
  
The door shut behind them, and Todd Short held his wife close. “Why can’t we see our son? Agent Gibbs, pardon my French, but what the _fuck_ is going on?”  
  
Jethro controlled his breathing and gestured toward the few chairs in the room. “Have a seat. Ken needs his rest, so I figured this would be best to discuss as soon as possible.” The couple sat and Jethro swallowed hard. “What he’s gone through is his own story. I won’t share it. But I can share mine.” They looked confused, and he sat down and leaned forward. “I’m currently an Agent with NCIS, yes. But before that, I was a slave. And for over half of the time I was a slave, I was owned by Carl Buford…”  
  
By the end of his brief recounting of the kinds of things Carl Buford was capable of, Elena was sobbing, and Todd was furious. “You’re saying this happened to our boy?!” Todd fumed, “I’ll kill that motherfucking son of a bitch piece of—“  
  
Jethro held up a hand. “I’m saying that’s what he’s done to me. Ken has injuries consistent with some of that abuse. I’m telling you this because you need to know he won’t just bounce back from this. He’s tough, yes, and determined to succeed, but he’ll need someone to talk to. PTSD is very real, and it can mess with you if you don’t start healing. In terms of the Navy, he’ll have 6 months leave with pay, and he’ll be evaluated after that for either medical discharge, honorable discharge, or reinstatement, and all AWOL charges have been dismissed. But promise me you’ll kick his ass about therapy. He won’t want to, he’ll say he doesn’t need it, but he does. He will.” The Shorts nodded. “And don’t handle him with kid gloves. He’ll be messed up, but babying him or coddling him will only make him feel worse. Kick his ass when he needs it.”  
  
The Shorts embraced each other as Jethro stood. Todd stood first and shook Jethro’s hand, placing his left hand on top as well. “Thank you. And I hope you have someone who kicks your ass too.” Jethro smiled and rolled his eyes, and Elena hugged him.  
  
“One more thing. Do not EVER let him think any of this was his fault.”  
  
Elena gasped, “Agent Gibbs, of course not! Who would ever think that?!”  
  
Jethro contemplated how to handle this without completely outing the young man. “The man in the hallway, Agent DiNozzo?” They nodded, still confused, “he coordinated the evidence collection and investigation that got Carl Buford arraigned in less than 7 hours. He’s a damn fine cop, and he’s my partner. On the job, and at home. Is that a problem for you?” Again, he gave them _his_ story instead of their son’s.  
  
Elena snorted, “Agent Gibbs, if you’re trying to tell us, without telling us, that our son is gay, that ship has sailed.” Jethro looked at Todd, who had flushed a bright crimson. “Todd here got an eyeful his senior year of high school…Ken was a bit…busy” she cleared her throat awkwardly, “so he didn’t notice.”  
  
Jethro nodded, “might want to let him know you know. It’ll help.” He held the door open for them and glanced through the glass into Ken’s room. All three of them noticed Maria laughing and smiling at a now-awake Kenneth Short.  
  
“Who’s she?” Elena asked, her hand hovering on the door handle.  
  
“Her name is Maria,” Tony said, as he came up behind them. “She did everything she could for your son while he was held captive. She’s a slave, and it was a risk, but she tried to care for his wounds, get him proper food and drink, and even talk to him. And after Carl Buford is sentenced, she’ll have no home.”  
  
Elena sniffled, “But she looks so kind! How could she not find a home?”  
  
Tony shrugged. “She’s a cook. It’s not a job that is usually necessary except on larger estates, and there isn’t much demand anymore. But, if you wanted, we could send her home with you. She’s a ward of the state, there would be no charge for the transfer, and she could help Ken, moving forward…”  
  
Jethro glared at Tony and pulled him aside, “did you ask either of THEM this?” he hissed. “Or are you just ASSUMING she’d want to go? Like sending a dog to a new home?”  
  
Tony pulled his arm from the iron grip, “I haven’t yet, no. I haven’t had the chance. But it’s a possibility I wanted to throw out there. It’s gonna be up to her, if it’s an option for the the Shorts, but right now I need to figure out a way to keep her off the auction block. You’re welcome.” He growled the last two words, and Jethro saw the mask drop again as ‘Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo’ turned back toward the nervous parents. “Go ahead,” he said quietly, gesturing toward the door.  
  
As the parents entered, Maria immediately pulled back to allow them room. She looked a little lost until her eyes met Jethro’s and she slotted herself under his arm. “I’m so glad his family is here. He was scared. He won’t admit it, but he was.” Jethro nodded and pulled her close, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. Tony sighed at the sight. He needed to talk to Ducky again.


	77. Saturday+10 2245

Tony and Jethro rode the hotel elevator in silence. It was late, they were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and Tony didn’t want to push anything right now. Jethro was all dark and stormy and if he tried to talk to him, he had a bad feeling they’d say things they didn’t mean. So he waited. He followed Jethro to his room in silence. He watched Jethro go through the motions to wind down his day. His gun went into the safe, his jacket slung over the back of the chair, cap and holster on the desk, shoes by the door, and he strode into the bathroom, shutting the door without a word.    
  
After a fifteen minute shower, Jethro emerged, freshly shaved, skin somewhat raw from scrubbing the filth of Carl Buford off of him. To his surprise, Tony was relaxing in the armchair by the bed in just a pair of knit pants. Both jackets were hung in the closet, caps looped around the hangers, holsters were on the shelf above the safe, two pairs of shoes beside the door. And Tony was just…watching. Jethro stood, stiffly and uncomfortably, for several long minutes, until he finally turned and sat on the bed. He was barely aware of the dip in the bed as Tony knelt behind him and embraced him from behind, hands clasped over his chest.    
  
“Didn’t mean to be a bastard.” Jethro mumbled, bringing his hand over Tony’s.    
  
“I know.” Tony said, burying his face into Jethro’s neck.    
  
“He’s gonna be fine.” Jethro said, mostly to himself.    
  
Tony nodded, “yeah, he will. What about you?”    
  
Jethro tensed. “I’m fine.” Tony didn’t move his head, but  released one hand to tap Jethro on the forehead. Jethro sighed, “OK, I’m not fine.” Tony didn’t reply. “Just…I blocked out a lot, and seeing him, strung up like that…brought it all back. But I took it out on you. 'S not right.” Tony just squeezed him tighter. Part of Jethro shuddered at the feeling of being restrained, but most of him felt safer for the embrace.    
  
“I get it. It’s gonna happen. As long as we get over it quickly, it’s fine. And, I’m sorry.” Tony mumbled.    
  
“For what?” Jethro asked, trying to turn, but Tony held fast. He was the asshole, why should Tony be apologizing?   
  
“What happened to you. Seeing him like that, I couldn’t help but see your face, and thinking how long you had to survive that…” Tony shuddered and his muscles clenched, “I wanted to run to that jail and lynch him myself.”    
  
Jethro smiled a little, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be obsessed with revenge.”    
  
Tony shrugged, “We got him into that jail cell in record time. It’ll have to do.” After several minutes of silence, Tony relaxed his hold and splayed his palms across Jethro’s chest, gently massaging his pectoral muscles. “I’m here. You’re here. We’re OK.” He whispered. Jethro turned slightly and caught Tony’s lips in a kiss, passionate, yet comforting.    
  
“We are OK. He can’t hurt us anymore.” He cupped Tony’s face and smiled, “And I’m also exhausted. Sleep?”    
  
Tony nodded, “as much as downstairs Tony would love a good romp, the rest of me is pretty tired too.” He went to lie down under the covers, but Jethro crooked an eyebrow. “What?” Tony asked.    
  
“don’t you usually sleep naked?”    
  
Tony scoffed, “Yes…thought you might object.”    
  
Jethro rolled his eyes, “I’m exhausted, not dead,” he said, as he stripped off the boxers he’d worn from the bathroom.

*****

Tony woke with a smile as he felt Jethro spooned against him, his hard cock nestled between his cheeks. He wriggled slightly, and Jethro tightened his grip around his waist with a grunt. “Stay still, pillow,” he grumbled. Tony chuckled and pressed his hips back, feeling Jethro’s cock twitch in response. He yipped when Jethro slid a hand up his chest and tweaked a nipple. “Too wiggly.” Tony liked this game. He stretched out and spread his legs slightly, angling his hips to allow Jethro's cock to slip down between his thighs.

“Oops.” He murmured.

Jethro chuckled low in his throat, “naughty pillow.” He pushed his hips forward, letting the head of his cock graze against Tony’s entrance. Tony tried to turn around, but Jethro kept his hold tight. Jethro thrust slowly, and Tony felt some fumbling behind him. He groaned when Jethro pulled back, but his one arm was still pinning him. Tony gasped when he felt Jethro's slick cock pressing back against him. “Now will you hold still?” He rumbled, and Tony whimpered.

“Jethro, it’s been a day,” Tony wasn't usually averse to a little pain, but he knew how Jethro felt inflicting it.

“I'll go slow.” And slow he did. Jethro slid his hand down to cup Tony’s growing erection and his balls, then reached behind them to guide himself against Tony's tight hole. Tony took some deep breaths, willing himself to relax as he felt the blunt head of Jethro's cock pressing against him, demanding entrance. Jethro pressed forward, forcing Tony open slightly, then pulled back. He repeated the motion several times, and began stroking Tony's cock, and soon, his hips thrust forward slightly more and Tony cried out, more from the expectation of pain than pain itself. Jethro had stretched him with just pressure, and there was a slight burning, but nothing strong enough to detract from the pleasure of being filled with his lover's cock. “God Tony, so tight…” Jethro grunted as he waited for Tony's body to adjust.

Tony’s body didn't want to wait another second. He pushed his hips back, impaling himself on Jethro's sensitive morning erection. Jethro groaned and his hand clenched around Tony's balls uncomfortably, as if that would help stall his own orgasm. “You're gonna kill me, Tony.”

Tony snickered and wiggled his hips again, “then teach me a lesson.” His grin turned into a gasp when Jethro snapped his hips forward and he drove deeply into Tony's body. “Fuuuck, Jethro. Please…”

Jethro didn't have the time for a long and sensual lovemaking session, or the energy for some serious fucking, so he went somewhere in between. He planted his foot firmly on the bed and rolled them so he was on top of Tony's back. He brought his knees up and spread Tony's thighs, and leaned on the hand planted just above Tony's shoulder. Tony was pinned and helpless, and he loved it. He writhed and moaned, pushing his hips up as best he could, to meet every one of Jethro's rough thrusts. Jethro slid his free hand under Tony and grasped the base of Tony's cock and balls, squeezing with every thrust, until Tony was begging to cum. As he felt his body falling toward release, Jethro started stroking Tony, still roughly handling his balls between strokes, and when the body beneath him clenched around his cock, it pulled him over the edge. He fucked Tony boneless, then collapsed slightly on top and to the side of him.

Tony barely registered when Jethro rolled off of him, only noticing the loss when he slipped from his body. Quickly, Jethro returned with a warm cloth and cleaned his thighs, along his crease, then urged him to roll back so he could give a cursory swipe over his belly and cock. “You need a shower,” he whispered, “then we should go.”

Tony grumbled, “Too tired. Your fault.”

Jethro playfully swatted Tony's ass, “come on, up.”

“Not for at least 20 minutes.” Tony chuckled at his own bad joke.

“That a challenge?” Jethro asked, as he pushed Tony flat on his back and swallowed his flaccid cock.

“Jesus!” Tony arched up as his over-sensitive skin was assaulted, and whined when Jethro slid a single finger into his still stretched hole, stroking him from the inside. “Oh God, it’s too much!” Tony writhed, but Jethro gripped his thigh and held him still. A few short moments later, Tony whimpered when Jethro pulled back.

“I win.”

Tony groaned and his now hard, leaking, and still over-sensitive cock jerked against his belly. “I hate you.”

Jethro smirked, “I know. Now, shower. If you're quick, you can join me.” He winked and strutted toward the bathroom. Tony scrabbled out of bed and hopped into the spray just as Jethro was opening the shampoo. He grabbed the shower gel and palmed his cock.

“ _ This _ is your fault too,” he said, leaning against Jethro as he stroked himself. Jethro gave him a half smirk and reached down to wrap his hand over Tony's.

“Then I guess I should help take care of it.” He pulled Tony close and stroked him until the gel became a lather, and Tony threw his head back with a moan. Jethro latched onto his collarbone and bit and sucked and marked his lover as he came in his hand.

When they were clean and dressed, they straightened each other's shirt collars, and Tony looked sad. “I’ll miss this, y’know.”

Jethro rolled his eyes, “yes, morning sex is good.”

“Well, the sex too. But I was talking about  _ this _ . The little stuff. Getting dressed, you letting me rub the oil on your back, fumbling over the coffeemaker.” He sighed, “I never thought I'd like that stuff. Always thought someone else would be in the way, or that I'd feel like I was in the way.”

Jethro pulled Tony close, “I know. It’s so easy. It’d be easy to just slip back into it right now, and I know we’d be fine for a while. But I know I need to try this. I’ve never lived on my own, Tony. Please understand. Never. I went from my dad to the Marines to Shannon to…” he sighed. “I’d rather do it now, when we’re good, when it's not some stupid reaction to a fight or me being a bastard. I'd rather it be a choice, before I obsess over whether I should've done it.”

Tony pushed him back, “I know. I’ll stop whining about it. You're not stupid.” He yipped when Jethro's hand connected with the back of his head. “What the hell?”

“Don't be passive aggressive. I know you're upset, I get why, and I don't expect you to stop being upset. Because if you stop wanting me to move back in, then we have a problem.”

Tony got defensive, “so, you get to leave me, but I have to keep pining for you, or we have a problem? That's fucked up, Jethro.”

Jethro rolled his eyes, “that's not what I said. I'm living on my own, for  _ me.  _ But that doesn't mean I don't want to move back in.” His mask dropped and he admitted, “and yes, I worry you will change your mind and not want me back, but I still have to. I need to know I've won you the old fashioned way.”

Tony pouted, but kissed Jethro anyway. “I'm not changing my mind.”

Jethro shrugged, “I'm still a bastard.”

Tony snorted, “Yeah, but you're  _ my _ bastard.”

*****

The rest of the day went smoothly, surprisingly, and by 4pm, Jethro was driving Tony to the airport. “I could take a few days’ leave, be here for you.”

Jethro shook his head, “I'll be ok. I appreciate the offer, Tony.” He kissed his lover goodbye and steeled his nerves as he drove back to the Buford estate.

After 2 days, they discovered that Carl had acquired an apprentice. One of his slaves had been doing his bidding, after years of grooming and molestation, including disposing of bodies of some of the people he’d hoped would replace Jethro. Some slave, some free, but it was all tied to the young man who would be sentenced to death for his crimes. He refused to implicate Buford, and their evidence against him for the child abuse charges was all circumstantial. By the end of the week, the Chicago DA rationalized that Buford wouldn't be out of jail before he died anyway, so there was no 'point’, legally, to pushing forward with a trial.

Buford was in jail for kidnapping, rape, assault, and tax crimes. But having no justice for the multitude of kids they all knew were assaulted was like a punch in the gut for Jethro and Morgan. They stood together as they watched the young slave taken away to be put down, and the questions from the reporters began. They declined to comment until one asked if Buford's abuse had started his mental decline and criminal behavior.

“Is it true that this is all about Carl Buford? Why did you do it? Comment, please!” The young man ducked his head and simply stepped into the back of the transport truck, letting the officers secure him to the rail in the center. Morgan stepped forward in front of the reporter and distracted her.

“My name is SSA Derek Morgan. I used to think that, uh, Carl Buford was a hero. I was very wrong.”   
  
“You're saying that's why Rodney Harris committed these crimes?” The reporter pushed her microphone back to Derek.

“Yes, that's what I said.”

“So being abused made him a killer?”

Derek flinched. He fully believed Buford had killed those men, but Rodney confessed to the murders as well as disposing of the bodies. “No. No, it did not.” He took a deep breath and looked straight into the camera. “The vast majority of child sex victims  _ don't _ grow up to be sex offenders or criminals. I know this because, and let me be direct, I was also one of Carl Buford's victims. Victimization does not  _ cause _ offending. It can cause a lot of isolation And there can be anger and rage. It can cause pain and suffering But you  _ can _ get through it. It can make you stronger. It does not have to destroy your life. It can make you fight back. And it can make you want to spend the rest of your life protecting others. Thank you.” Derek nodded to the reporters as Jethro clapped him on the back and he and Hotch steered him toward the black SUV on the street.

On the jet, while Jethro was thinking about everything Morgan had said, he almost didn't notice when the younger agent sat next to him with a sigh. “It’s over, man.”

Jethro raised an eyebrow, “not for those kids.”

Morgan stretched his long legs across the space in front of him and shrugged, “yeah, part of it is. Not the kind of justice we were gunning for, but I guess some of the inmates saw me on the news.” He paused and looked at Jethro intently. “He was in gen pop. They don't take kindly to kiddie rapists.”

“And?” Jethro asked.

“Judge, jury, executioner. Bled out in the laundry room. No evidence, and I'm not sure the warden wants to find any.”

Jethro nodded. “Good.” He growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek Morgan quote from Criminal Minds 8.18, “Restoration”


	78. Thursday+10 1825

Jethro dropped his bag by the door of what wasn't going to be his home for much longer. Or what would hopefully be his home again someday soon. He pulled off and draped his jacket over the back of the couch. “Tony! Hey, something smells good!”

“Young man, I just mopped this floor, now _take off your shoes!_ ” Jethro stopped in his tracks at the familiar voice. He turned slowly toward the stairs and saw Maria, in yoga pants and a T-shirt, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Uh…” before Jethro could complete a thought, his shoes were placed neatly on the new boot tray by the door, and Maria was wrapping him in a hug. “I'm not complaining, but...what?”

Tony appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, towel over his shoulder. “Couldn't leave her there, so I made some calls.”

Jethro looked at Tony, eyes wide, “so, what, you needed a maid?”

Maria made a *tsk* sound in the back of her throat. “Jethro, how dare you speak to your young friend like that! He’s been nothing but kind. Apologize.”

Tony raised one eyebrow and the corner of one lip and folded his arms. “Yeah, _Jethro_.”

“Oh no, you're not ganging up on me.” Jethro grumbled. Maria cleared her throat and looked at him expectantly. He sighed, knowing when to pick his battles. “Fine, let me rephrase. Tony, why is Maria here?”

Maria started to scold him again, but Tony spoke up, “That's as good as we’ll get, Maria,” he said with a grin. “She’s here because I asked if she’d like to come. It's a stretch, financially, but I'm offering room and board and a weekly paycheck. I can't swing what she really deserves, but she said she’d consider taking care of you when you're here to be compensation enough. Ducky will be paying her for cooking classes for Celia as well. She’s hoping to learn some more complex techniques from Maria here to help her job search once her papers come through.” The woman beamed.

“Oh, Jethro, if he wasn't so young, I'd make sure you had some competition on your hands!” Maria snickered, then turned to Tony. “Now get back in the kitchen. You promised you'd show me what you've got!” Tony clapped his hands and skipped across the floor.

Jethro just stood in the entryway, still in shock.

Over the next two weeks, Jethro spent about half of his free time readying his cabin for habitation, and the other half either devising new and interesting dates, or letting himself be seduced a la DiNozzo. Even though the cabin was still lacking in most utilities, he’d made every attempt to stay there every night. He wasn't a fan of dialing back their sexual activities, but with Maria in the house, and Tony averse to braving the chill of an unevenly heated cabin, they didn't have much choice. He hated sleeping alone, and he hated the dark circles under Tony's eyes every morning he arrived in the bullpen. But he kept telling himself it needed to be done.

He’d decided to stay with the Marine reserves as a liaison officer to NCIS. Three new uniforms later, he got a letter stating that he was no longer required to wear them, except for official functions or press conferences. Tony laughed about the letter, claiming that Vance had begged for it, because some of the staff were significantly distracted by his ass.

He didn't tell Tony yet about the pay settlement he’d received. There wasn't much precedent for what had happened, so his friends at JAG had negotiated approximately 65% pay, adjusted for inflation, for the 15 years he was 'held captive.’ He’d transferred 50% of that to a retirement fund, but the rest, about $250,000, was in a high yield savings account. He would decide what to do with it in another 6 months, he told himself.

Tony hated to admit it, but having Maria around was a godsend. He lost some of the bloating he’d been fighting around his middle, he liked having someone to fight over dishes with (she cooked, he cleaned up, no matter what she insisted, that was his motto), he actually felt loved when she came into his room unannounced one morning and thwacked him with a pillowcase because he wasn't getting up fast enough and he was about to be late. She gave him love and affection he’d never had from a parent, and if it came with some badgering and mild physical abuse in the form of dirty socks to the face (which he really shouldn't have left by the couch anyway) or empty pillowcases, he’d take it. It would probably get old really fast, but for now, it was good.

*****

“Alright, I got a good feeling about tonight,” Tony announced. “So go home on time for once!” He leaned back in his chair and put his feet on his desk as he watched his team pack up. Jethro came around his desk and sat next to his feet.

“You, uh, wanna grab some dinner?”

Tony frowned a bit, “oh, uh, sorry, I've already got plans with Abby.”

Jethro nodded and grabbed his bag. Part of him was pissed that Tony chose Abby over him. Part of him was worried he’d pushed too far. But part of him was relieved that this was a bit more normal for a 3-month-long relationship. He had things to do at the cabin anyway.

Later, when Tony told Abby what had happened, she gasped, “Tony, it’s just movie night! You miss him!”

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled Abby back against his chest on the couch. “OK, A) there's no such thing as _just_ movie night. And B) I miss my Abby time too. We haven't been hanging out much at all, and I’m not being a very good friend.”

Maria came into the room with Tony's giant bowl full of cayenne and cinnamon popcorn. “Sí Abby. Anthony's life does not revolve around Jethro. Now, if I am intruding…”

Tony grabbed the sleeve of her t-shirt and pulled her onto the couch, “oh stop. Movie night with my girls. Call me Heff.” Abby laughed. Maria was confused. Tony hugged them both. It was a good night.

*****

And then there was a terrorist. And it was bad. The whole team was run ragged, sleeping at their desks, if they slept at all. Tony nearly beat a suspect in interrogation. Jethro drank about 3 gallons of coffee and was insufferable. Even McGee lost 'work McGee' for a bit and snarled and chest bumped a probie, sending him scurrying to HR. Abby broke down in tears, for which Jethro calmed his own nerves and offered her hugs with her caf-pows. Maria brought them all meals, getting Ned to pick her up, until even the guards recognized her on sight and graciously accepted their own portions.

Finally, Thursday morning at 2am, the paperwork was completed. Tony sent Tim home, after making him finish the report from the probie he’d scared off, and was about to do the same for Jethro, when their eyes met. Jethro looked empty. He had given everything on this case, only narrowly avoiding being blown to bits, and then they’d watched their own government blow up an entire Navy destroyer to prevent the possibility of further casualties. They’d participated in a cover up, and it was eating away at Jethro that the military he’d put his life on the line for was killing innocents, when they were fairly certain they could have come up with another solution. Tony closed his laptop and walked across the aisle to Jethro’s desk. “Come home with me?”  
  
Jethro stared straight ahead at his computer screen. “report’s not done.”  
  
Tony held out his hand, “It can wait.”  
  
Jethro hated the sense of panic he felt inside. He wanted to run. He wanted to forget everything he’d been forced to face. He’d confided in his old friend, Mike Franks, who’d offered him sanctuary at his cabin on the beach in Mexico. It wasn’t Jethro’s favorite country, but it was far away from everything. He’d procrastinated on his report, letting his mind wander to how it would feel to just forget. If he ran, he knew Tony wouldn’t stop him. He could dump everything on Tony’s desk, close up his cabin, and leave, and Tony would accept it. It would hurt, and he’d never get the chance to be with him again, but he’d let him go.  
  
But the hand that was extended in front of him was like a lifeline. An invitation, not an order. He could run, or he could go home with the man he loved, and deal with his issues.  
  
Jethro decided he was too damn old to run. He took Tony’s hand and followed him. To the elevator, to their cars, to Tony’s house, and up the stairs to Tony’s bedroom. He hadn’t spent more than an hour at a time here for nearly 3 weeks now. When they got there, Tony pulled him onto the bed, fully clothed, and held him. He thought about changing. He thought about showering. He thought about making love. But exhaustion took over, and all he could do was sleep.  
  
Eight and a half hours later, Jethro woke to an empty bed, and the smell of coffee wafting through the slightly open door. He heard mariachi music blaring from the kitchen and smiled. He hadn’t even thought about Maria being here last night, but obviously she was making something lovely for breakfast. Brunch by now. He showered thoroughly, being used to waking alone, and dressed in clothes from his go bag on the floor. Then he remembered. His father was due for the weekend. In…he glanced at his watch…3 hours. He was going to be headed to the cabin, so Jethro pulled out his phone.  
  
_“Leroy, good timing! We were just pulling off for a bite to eat. You got that woodstove up and running yet? It’s freezing out_!”  
  
“Hey dad,” Jethro sighed, “yes, first thing I did was clear out the raccoon nest and get it going. But I’m not there today. We had a rough case—can you meet me at Tony’s?”  
  
_”Of course! More comfortable anyway. You come to your senses and move back in?”_  
  
Jethro rolled his eyes, “Dad, come on. Don’t harass me on that, OK?” _I feel bad enough as it is_ , he thought.  
  
” _Alright. What’s your boy makin’ for supper? I haven’t had a good lasagna in ages.”_  
  
Jethro laughed, “well, actually, I think Maria has something big planned. She likes to feed Tony when he’s stressed.”  
  
_”Maria? Jethro…is Tony…seeing someone else? Are you ok? Should I get my shotgun_?”  
  
Jethro snorted, “No, dad! Maria is...well, I’ll have to explain when you get here. It’s a long story. You’ll like her.”  
  
” _If you say so. If her cooking is as good as your boy’s, then I will. Now I’m starving, and LJ is threatening to leave me in the unheated car, so I’ll see you soon, son.”_ __  
  
Jethro sighed when his father hung up. Things were going to get crowded here. Although inside, he was a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hide some of his projects at the cabin after all. He leaned against the door frame, watching Maria trying to fend off a hovering Tony, as he tried to give his input over the eggs and whatever meat she was making. Slowly, he pulled the kitchen towel from its bar, twisted it, and snapped it on Tony’s ass.  
  
“Hey!!” Tony yelped and grabbed his cheek as he turned, “oh, it’s on!” He turned the water on in the sink, grabbed the sprayer, and aimed. Jethro laughed when the water pressure was just enough to dampen his toes as he stepped back. “Damnit!” Tony grumbled, then rushed forward and slid his freezing hands under Jethro’s shirt and tweaked his nipples.  
  
“Holy fuck!” Jethro easily writhed from his grasp, but Tony was grinning from ear to ear.  
  
“Now we’re even!”  
  
“Anthony. Jethro.” Maria scolded from the stove and pointed at the puddle on the floor behind her. The two men looked at her blankly, then back at each other, and Tony just started laughing hysterically. He snagged the towel from Jethro’s hands and swiped at the water, using his bare foot, then tossed the damp cloth into the laundry chute.  
  
Brunch was great, and Maria was excited to meet Jackson and LJ. She tried to smooth Tony’s hair, so he looked ‘acceptable’ for his boyfriend’s father, and Tony gave Jethro a pleading look. Jethro just snorted and held up his hands, backing away slowly. “Next thing you know, she’ll be making me wear bow ties like Ducky!” Tony growled at him, running his fingers through his hair. Jethro just smiled at him.  
  
“She’s just trying to help. Her kids died, she’s got nobody else to dote on.”  
  
Tony sighed, “I know. It’s nice, really, and she’ll get to you soon, I’m sure of it.”  
  
Tony was right. By that evening, Jethro was getting tired and cranky and had snapped at Jackson. Something silly that both men would be over by morning, but on his way to the basement that still held some of his tools, Maria stepped in front of him. “uh-unh. You march your cute little behind back there and stop this this instant. You don’t get to yell and run. That’s not the Jethro I knew for all those years. You talked about how you wished things were better between you? Go make it better.” She pointed at the living room while the other 3 men pretended not to notice or overhear. Jethro grit his teeth, but couldn’t disagree with her, so she stormed back into the living room. “And you, mister. You thought he was dead, so cut him some slack. Both of you…shake hands. Life is too short to act like imbeciles.” Jackson actually blushed and nodded. LJ and Tony hid their snickers behind their hands.  
  
Tony invited Jackson and LJ to stay with him, especially since Jethro only had cots and sleeping bags at the cabin. Jethro started to pack up, but Tony cornered him in the kitchen, “Stay the weekend. Your dad’s here, LJ is here, it’s not like you’re moving back in. You’ve got your go bag, you left some clothes here, we don’t even have to sleep together.” Tony’s movements were awkward, unsure of what protocol he should be following. Jethro had made his intentions clear each date they’d had, and since Chicago, the furthest they’d gone was hands and mouths. Tony didn’t want to make Jethro think he was pressuring him or anything, but… “look, it’s late. It’s another 45 minutes back home for you. I’d rather know you’re safe on the couch than driving drowsy.”  
  
Jethro slipped off the shoe he’d started to put on and smiled, trying not to give away the flipping in his stomach. “do you want me on the couch?”  
  
Tony shook his head and wrapped his arms around Jethro’s body, “nope. But it’s your call.”  
  
Jethro kissed Tony’s neck, “Let’s go to bed, shall we?”  
  
Once everyone was settled with clean bedding and pillows, Tony sat on his bed waiting for Jethro to finish in the bathroom. Sure, they'd slept together a few times lately, but he felt nervous, like this was their first time making the decision while fully conscious. But when he heard the water shut off, he took a deep breath and shook off his fear. He was Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Master of Seduction. Confident Alpha Male. He wanted Jethro, and he’d make sure it was known.

Jethro stepped out of the shower and toweled off. He pulled his toothbrush from his toiletry bag and noticed the bathroom door open as he was brushing his teeth, and Tony gently ran his hands up and down his back. “Maybe it sounds corny, but I love feeling your muscles under your skin. Just the shifting and movement of it all.” Jethro still wasn't 100% comfortable with someone touching his back so casually, but he held himself still. Tony reached over him and opened the medicine cabinet, pulling out a small, unopened jar of white lotion. “Vitamin E based, with Shea and cocoa butter.” Without pause, he tossed the plastic seal into the trash and began rubbing the cool paste across Jethro's upper back. “I love that you let me do this.” He pressed the heels of his hands into the muscles along Jethro's spine. “I love feeling you loosen up, that you trust me like this.” He was partially working the lotion into the scars, mentally noticing that, even though they were over a decade old, his attentions had softened them over the past few months, and he was partially giving Jethro a massage he so desperately needed. He kept talking, his voice dropping slightly as he became more aroused by the feeling of his lover's skin and muscle beneath his hands. “Sometimes I feel like this is more intimate than sex. That you want me to help you soften the scars of what happened.”

Jethro inhaled deeply at that. Tony was right. He’d never let anyone touch his back before. Buford loved them, liked to flog his back and break them open, liked that he’d taken that many lashes with a bullwhip. That was part of the reason why the few lovers he’d taken that he’d liked enough to fuck them face up, they weren't allowed to wrap their hands around him. His neck was OK, his hips were ok, but he wore the deep scars on his back like a badge of honor. A testament to his strength and fierceness. And now, Tony was softening the scars, loosening his muscles, melding him into a normal life, and he trusted him to do it. He leaned away, just enough to spit and rinse his mouth, then turned into Tony's arms. “I do trust you, Tony”

Tony beamed at the admission. It was almost as good as Jethro saying he loved him. Maybe better. He kissed Jethro deeply, running his still slightly slick hands over Jethro's shoulder blades. “Mm, minty fresh.” He smiled against Jethro's lips, and they slowly backed out of the bathroom.

When Tony felt the bed hit the back of his knees, he sat down and let his hands slide under the edge of the towel wrapped around Jethro's waist. He looked up and caught Jethro's eyes as he pushed the towel to the floor and cupped his ass. Jethro's cock twitched, already hard, and Tony left his hands where they were as he gently licked around the head. Jethro closed his eyes and moaned quietly, and Tony grasped his ass and pulled Jethro deep into his throat. The sudden pull tipped Jethro slightly off balance, and he placed his hands on Tony's shoulders as the younger man swallowed around him. Jethro felt his breath speeding up, and chewed on his lip to keep from crying out. Damn, Tony was good. Very good. He knew this, but it passed through his mind every time the man touched him.

“Tony…” Jethro groaned his name, and grabbed his hands from his ass. Tony looked up at him through his thick eyelashes and Jethro groaned again as he pulled himself free of the wet heat and pushed Tony back onto the bed. He motioned for Tony to scoot up, and when he had, Jethro straddled his thighs. “What do you want tonight?” Jethro whispered, lowering himself on top of Tony, letting his erection press against Tony's, thrusting slightly.

Tony was shaking slightly, and pulled Jethro down for a kiss. When he needed to come up for air, he pushed Jethro back enough to slip a hand between them and grasp both of their cocks. “This.”

Jethro dropped his head slightly at the tight grip and feel of Tony's precum sliding between them. He thrust his hips slightly, enough that his head was sliding in and out of his sensitive foreskin. He leaned on one elbow and pulled the nightstand drawer open roughly, digging blindly for the tube he knew was in there. He groaned when Tony started sliding his thumb back and forth over their slits, and then grinned in victory as he pulled the tube out and flipped the cap with one hand. He sat back on his heels and poured a liberal amount of lube onto his palm and then warmed it between his hands. He first wrapped a hand around each of them, making Tony gasp as he was stroked firmly, then wiped one hand on the sheets and pressed both their cocks back together.

Tony arched his body up to meet Gibbs halfway, then pulled him down on top of him, kissing and thrusting into his hand. He slipped his own hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Jethro's, and joined his lover, each thrusting and stroking in time, kissing and touching with their opposite hands, until Tony's breathing became even more irregular, his moans louder, his words babbling. “Jethro...god, I'm close...please…”

Jethro smiled and clenched his hand slightly, “wait for me. I know you can, come on babe,”

Tony whimpered and writhed beneath him, trying to keep himself coherent, trying to pull back from the edge. Seeing Tony so close to unraveling, but holding everything back, just for him, was so goddamn hot, Jethro sped up his pace. He was close now too, “now, babe...god, so close…” He held his hand tight and started thrusting against Tony, their cocks sliding together, until they both stuttered and cried out each others names, cum collecting on their hands and bellies.

Jethro held himself up on one shaky arm, until Tony pushed him down onto his side. He kissed him softly, lovingly, as their breathing evened out and they came down from their high. Jethro whimpered when Tony abruptly jumped out of bed. _Way more energy than he’s entitled to_ , he thought, but smiled when he returned with a warm cloth and cleaned them up, making sure to take a detour through the cum with his tongue. Jethro ran his fingers through Tony's hair and kissed his forehead. “I love you, Tony.”

“Love you too, Jethro.” Tony said as he snuggled against his lover and drifted off to the best night’s sleep he’d had in weeks.

*****  
  
The ‘family’ (aka: team) dinner on Saturday went well. Jethro chose to stay fairly quiet during the dinner, just observing his new and old families interacting. Ducky, Jackson, Maria, and LJ were engaged in deep conversation, and Jethro couldn’t help but notice his father’s eyes wandering to Maria’s ample bosom. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Of course his father was trying to flirt with her. Oddly, she seemed much more flattered by his attentions than Jethro expected.  
  
McGee brought his now fairly serious girlfriend, Delilah, who seemed a bit more assertive and confident in her place, although Jethro caught several unspoken exchanges between the two which would cause her to flush and lower her gaze to the thin leather bracelets tight on her wrists. After getting to know Tim, and seeing her demeanor change since the first dinner they’d had, Jethro felt a little more comfortable with what he knew was probably something they lived, 24/7, whenever they could.  
  
Abby brought a friend of hers that she was obviously interested in ‘getting to know better.’ He seemed young in some ways, but Jethro could tell he was probably Tony’s age. He was shorter than Abby, with a robust beard, and receding hairline, and delicate features. Although he seemed to be a little awkward, Jethro liked him. His energy was full of kindness, and he spoke a lot about love and peace and all the hippie shit he knew Abby liked to try and emulate.  
  
As everyone left, Jethro grabbed his bag as well. Tony sighed, and headed for the kitchen before Jethro stopped him. “I need new clothes. I’ll be back in the morning, OK?” Tony seemed to want to say something, but he bit his bottom lip and shrugged. Jethro tapped him on the forehead, “say it.”  
  
Tony glanced around and then looked at Jethro’s bag. “Maybe you could at least keep some stuff here? I could do the whole “one drawer” thing. Keep your toothbrush in my bathroom. Just a few changes of clothes…”  
  
Jethro nodded. “I’d like that. But you still haven’t spent the night at the cabin either.”  
  
Tony shuddered, “but it’s like camping. In the winter. I hate being cold.”  
  
“I’d keep you warm,” Jethro winked, and Tony rolled his eyes.  
  
“Alright, I get the hint. Next weekend? As long as you keep your promise.” Jethro nodded.  
  
“And I’ll bring a bag of stuff over tomorrow. Including a toothbrush.” He pulled Tony close and kissed him…and kissed him…and kissed him…until they realized the rest of the room was filled with uncomfortable silence. Jethro pulled back and raised his eyebrows, “not alone…oops.” Tony laughed, pushed him out the door, and said his goodnights to the rest of those departing.  
  
Another week of sleeping alone. Another few days of cold cases. Another bastard of a case. It meant their weekend at the cabin wasn’t going to happen, and tensions were high. And in the end, Tony had to kill the guy. He’d gone undercover, befriended him, and in the course of the op, realized that instead of the partner being the serial killer and ringleader, it was his new ‘friend.’ They shared childhood stories, and Tony saw how he’d gotten this way. And how easily it could have been him. And in the end, Jethro had pulled him from the car, covered in Jeffrey's blood after he shot him at point blank range.   
  
He showered at the office.

He ignored the ringing in his ears.

He called Maria so she wouldn't worry.

He did his report.

He reviewed McGee’s report.

He reviewed Jethro’s report.

He reviewed Abby’s report.

It was all jerky movements and actions without thought. Sometimes he hated being the responsible one. Push comes to shove, it was his responsibility to keep that guy alive, to get him a into a cell. Sure, he'd done what he had to do, but he couldn't help but feel bad for him. He'd LIKED a serial killer. That, and knowing that HE could have ended up the same way, was weighing on him even more than the act of killing him. It was all on his shoulders. The weight of it all was starting to suffocate him. He sat alone at his desk and his finger hovered over the speed dial for Jethro’s number. But he couldn’t ask Jethro for this. He knew what he needed, but they’d taken a step back. This wasn’t even something he was sure he’d have asked for before. It was late, but he dialed another number anyway. “Tim. You up?” 

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief episode reference to Hiatus parts 1&2 (3.23/24) and Chained (2.10).
> 
> So, we are rushing through their separation, mostly because they're dealing with it in a grown-up manner, with not-too-much sex, and what's the fun in that?
> 
> Also, because muse wants to wrap this up, and while I could certainly drag this out another 25 chapters, I'd rather not.


	79. Monday+15 0152

Tim stepped back into his bedroom and scrubbed a hand over his face. _Damnit_. He thought. He looked at the beautiful redhead spread across his bed, black padded cuffs still around her pale ankles and wrists, although they'd been unhooked from each other. “Dee, honey,” he gently stroked her hair back from her face, grinning at the marks he’d left on her collarbone earlier that night. She hummed and leaned into his hand. “I need you to get up,” he said, firmly, and she shifted to the edge of the bed immediately. She was still shuffling, half asleep, but she followed him to the living room and knelt on the pillow he placed on the floor. She yawned, but kept her hands clasped in front of her and her head down. “Look at me.” She raised her chin and her slowly blinking eyes met his. “You trust me?”

“Yes sir.” She nodded.

“Good. Now, remember, I've told you I don't share. Not you, and I won't share myself while I'm with you. But Tony called.” He caught her slight tension, but she didn't react otherwise. “I have other options, but if he needs someone to take him down, I will. But it stops there. I give you my word. Do you still trust me?” 

She smiled ever so slightly and nodded, “yes sir.” 

He smiled and stroked her hair. She really was everything he wanted. She dealt with so much important information every day, she just wanted to let it all go. She craved this. It wasn't an on-again, off-again scene like it was for Tony. And while she didn't mind some pain with her pleasure, she was more focused on the simple dominance part of things. She was, in basic terms, a 'pet.’ And Tim loved it. In fact, he was pretty sure he loved her. “Alright, Tony is on his way, so go, shower, get dressed, and come back here and wait until he gets here, then I'll take you home. I need to make a phone call.” He motioned toward the bathroom door and she stood and walked away. Tim took a deep breath. Then another. Aaaaaaaaand another. 

_Please don't kill me._

_Please don't kill me._  

 _Please don't kill me._  

It was like a mantra, or a prayer. _Maybe,_ he thought, _I should light a candle...for good luck…_ His hand shook as he hit the speed dial on his phone. After the 4th ring, he figured the man was asleep. Then,

 _“Gibbs.”_  

Tim cleared his throat. He put on his best confident voice and tried not to start out too awkward. “Gibbs, do you remember those books I gave you?” 

 _“It's 2 in the goddamn morning, McGee,”_ Gibbs growled into the phone.

Tim took a breath, “yes, it is. And Tony is about 5 minutes from my apartment.” Silence filled the other line. Then rustling and the jangle of keys. Tim continued, “I'm taking Delilah home, meet me outside my building when you get here.”

Gibbs hung up. Tim assumed there was a head nod in there somewhere. He stepped out of the kitchen to find Delilah clothed and again kneeling on the cushion she’d left earlier. Tim sat in the armchair and patted his knee. She stood and took the few steps, but before she could kneel again, McGee held up a finger. He pulled another cushion out and placed it at his feet. She sank down onto it and leaned her head on his thigh, practically purring as his fingers carded through her hair. 

Delilah startled when they heard the knock on the door. “Shhh, easy, I got it.” McGee stood and opened the door. Tony was flustered, his eyes wild, until McGee cleared his throat. Tony saw the cushion in the center of the floor, and Delilah kneeling on another.

“Shit, Tim, I didn't mean to upset Delilah, I'll go, I shouldn't even be here, I just need a drink or something, just let me get--”

He was cut off by Tim’s voice, low and firm, “Center.” 

Tony stopped talking and swallowed. He froze. Tim raised his eyebrows, and Tony immediately dropped his go bag and fell to his knees on the cushion. Tim sat back on the chair, to the side and slightly behind Tony, guiding Delilah's head back to his thigh. “I said I'd never turn you away. Why did you hesitate at the door?”

Tony shrugged.

“That's not an answer. Did you stop trusting me?” 

Tony shook his head, keeping his eyes down, “no sir.” 

“Then why did you hesitate? Why did you try to leave?”

Tony inhaled sharply, but replied quietly, “it's not my place. I didn't want to hurt Delilah.”

“And don't you think it was my decision the second you called? Isn't that why you're here?” He gently stroked Delilah's face and neck, enjoying how she seemed to actually be getting aroused by this whole display. 

Tony nodded, “yes sir.” 

“And if I chose to leave you here in the center of this floor the rest of the night as punishment?”

Tony closed his eyes and nodded, “your choice, sir.” 

Tim smiled and looked down at Delilah. He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and tipped it toward him so he could lean down and kiss her before he stood. She whimpered slightly at the loss, but settled back into position immediately. 

“I'm going to forgive that hesitation, since it’s been quite a while.” Tim stood in front of Tony now, “but I need to bring Delilah home.” He stepped back and held a pair of black boxer briefs and a silk blindfold in his hand. “Shower thoroughly, inside and out, put these on, and settle back here. I’ll deal with you when I return. Understood?” 

Tony nodded as Tim placed the underwear and silk in front of Tony. “When the door closes, you may stand. Delilah?” The woman stood and stepped around Tony to follow Tim out the door. Tony stayed still until the door closed and locked, and Tim sighed deeply. 

“I’ve already called Jethro. I don't think there will be any problems, dear, but let’s get you home anyway, ok? We can talk about it more tomorrow when we're both back to normal.” Delilah pressed against him and nodded. She only lived about 5 minutes away, so he’d take his time getting her settled into bed. She trusted him now, but once she was back out of her subspace, they'd have to talk about this.

Thirty minutes later, Tim pulled back up to his apartment building to see Jethro leaning against the brick. “Where've you been?” He snarled. Tim squared his shoulders and may have puffed his chest just a little. Maybe. 

“Taking care of my sub. Tony comes barging into my apartment in the middle of the night, she needed a little reassurance. Now, take a breath.” Tim could tell Jethro wasn't a fan of taking his orders, but right now _he_ was the one who knew what the hell was going on.

Jethro took a step back and inhaled deeply, exaggerating the motion. “There. Happy?”

Tim nodded, “it’s a little better. Give me 5 minutes, then I'll bring you to my apartment. Deal?” 

Jethro nodded. Tim used his key tag to open the front door of the building and led Jethro to a small TV room off the lobby. He turned on the light and motioned toward one chair as he sat in the other. “Tony is upstairs waiting. He _needs_ to be taken down, Jethro. Not just silk ties and blindfolds. He blames himself, and he won't be able to let it go without someone forcing him to let it go. It’s not about sex, although that is a quicker way of pushing someone down, given its intimate nature. He'll fight it the whole way, and he needs someone who won't give up, won't go easy on him. Someone who cares enough to push him to his limits. And yes, usually it involves things that won't be easy for you. Can you do it?”

Jethro felt his lip curling in anger, “you think I can't?”

Tim took a deep breath, “I worry your emotions won't let you. Or that even if you can, that Tony will know you're struggling and either won't let go, or will feel even worse when he comes back.” Jethro didn't respond, so Tim continued, “if that's right, then I _can_ do this, but there will be no sexual contact. I've already promised that to Delilah, and Tony would be very clear on that as well.”

Jethro swallowed hard. “He came to _you_ instead of me.”

Tim sighed, “because he knows I can do this with no effect on our relationship. He’s still unsure with you. And if you do this, you _cannot_ be angry with him. For coming to me, or for needing this in the first place. I'm talking to you because he trusts you, and I trust you, that knowing he came here won't screw things up.”

“If he trusts me, then why the hell couldn't he call?” 

“He trusts _you_. He doesn't trust himself. Whether he needs to our not, he walks on eggshells sometimes.” 

Jethro nodded. He met Tim's eyes, “take me to him.”

Tim stood, “let me do the talking at first. You just observe. Watch him. He'll be different once he knows you're there, but you need to get him back into that headspace before you start anything.” 

Jethro didn't like the idea of Tim having control or speaking to Tony like this, but logically, he saw his point. He nodded once and Tim unlocked the door to find Tony kneeling on the cushion, black boxer briefs his only clothing, the black silk tied tightly around his eyes. 

“Good, Tony.” Tim praised, and Tony didn't move. “It’s been a while, what is your safe word?”

Tony’s skin reddened, but he responded, “semper Fi.” Jethro arched an eyebrow, but kept silent.

“A new one? Have anything to do with your Marine?”

Tony was honest, “yes sir.”

“Ok. And to pause and talk?” 

“Popcorn.”

Jethro smiled, thinking of the many times Tony had come up with different flavors of popcorn in that stupidly gigantic bowl of his. But he kept his eyes on Tony's posture, his relaxed muscles, his lowered head.

“Hard limits?” Tim was standing right in front of Tony now. He held his hands up, letting Jethro know he wasn't touching, just invading his space a bit.

Tony’s shoulders tensed, “The usual. Bodily fluids, illegal anything, and...sex.” The last word was barely audible. Tim smiled to himself, but continued his pacing. 

“Sex? Elaborate. Tell me why.” Tony knew why he was asking, but he couldn't disobey.

“I've betrayed Jethro enough, coming here. But I won't cheat on him.” 

Tim didn't look at Jethro. “So why didn't you go to him in the first place?”

“He’d be disappointed in me, sir.”

Tim ignored the tension he could feel behind him. It was a truth Jethro hadn't considered, but Tim knew that Tony was often ashamed and insecure deep down. “You don't trust him?” 

Tony tipped his head up and clenched his jaw, “of course I do.”

Tim grabbed Tony's chin and leaned into his ear, “then Why. Didn't. You. Call. _Him_?” Tony's breath sped up, but he didn't respond. Tim released him roughly. “You honestly think he’d prefer you come to me?”

Tony lowered his head again, “no sir.”

“So. Answer me. Why?”

Tony swallowed, and Jethro noticed his shoulders slumped even more, “I was scared, sir.” 

Tim nodded. “Alright. Good job, Tony. Now, do you trust me? That no matter what, I'm making the right decision for you right now?”

Tony's forehead crinkled in confusion, but he nodded. “Yes sir.” 

“Good. Stand.” He stepped toward the coat closet and pulled out a thick overcoat and handed it to Jethro. He went to the kitchen counter where he’d placed a collar and leash, and by the time he returned to the living room, Tony was standing, feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back, head down. He looked at Jethro and held up the collar, waiting for his nod of acceptance. With a set jaw, Jethro tilted his head almost imperceptibly, so Tim proceeded. “Collar, Tony.” Tony tipped his head up slightly so Tim could buckle the soft leather around his neck. He gripped the lead tightly and pulled Tony close, hovering his open mouth just inches from Tony’s lips. “be honest, Tony. Do you want this? From _me_?”

Tony trembled, a tear dampening the cloth over his eyes, “I need it. You know I do.”

“Not what I asked,” Tim twisted the lead, which twisted the collar enough to tighten it uncomfortably. “Is it _me_ you want?”

Tony tried to swallow, but grimaced at the tension around his throat. “No.” He croaked.

Tim loosened his grip slightly, and whispered, "Who do you want?"

Tony whimpered, but Tim didn't let up. "Jethro. I want him. I wanted to go to him." he said, shakily. Tim released the lead, and Tony started to panic, “I'm sorry, Tim. Please, you said you'd never turn me away, you're my friend, I trust you!” He started to drop back to his knees when Jethro pushed past Tim, wrapped the lead around his hand, and pulled him back up.

“Did I tell you to kneel for him?” He growled. Tony gasped and his legs shook, but Jethro's grip on his throat held him firm. “Answer me.”

Tony shook his head as best he could. “Nnnno, Sir.”

Jethro loosened his grip slightly, but brought his body flush to Tony’s. He looked around the room and noticed Tim had disappeared. “Don't call me sir. I work for a living. When we’re like this, you will call me Boss.” He'd already decided on that when he'd started reading the books McGee had given him. “Sir” and “Master” were loaded terms for him. “Boss” was better.

“Yes Boss.” It rolled off his tongue like he'd been saying it for years. Jethro curled his empty hand around Tony's neck and pulled him into a possessive kiss. Instantly, Tony's mouth opened to allow him entrance, and he pressed inside, mapping every bit of his mouth with his tongue and lips until he pushed him back roughly. He slid the hand from Tony's neck and smacked the back of his head.

“After tonight, you won't be going back to Tim again, do you hear me?” 

Tony nodded, “yes Boss.”

“You’ll be punished for that, and then it’ll be over. Understood?” 

Another nod, “Yes, Boss.”

“Put this on.” Jethro guided his hand toward the arm of the coat and helped him shrug it on. “It's cold out, but I promised to keep you warm.” Jethro helped him into his boots, then pulled him close again, “do you trust me?” He whispered, gentler than Tony expected.

Tony thought about it. Jethro let him. And then, as gently as Jethro had asked, he replied, "Popcorn."


	80. Monday+15 0227

Jethro immediately reached behind Tony’s head and untied the blindfold. He draped it on the back of the couch and ran his thumb over the slightly red mark it had left near Tony’s temple when he tightened it. “OK. Talking first. Would you like your pants?”   
  
Tony glanced down, but shook his head and tightened the coat around himself. “This isn’t fair,” he said.   
  
Jethro nodded. “I know. But would you have come to me otherwise?”   
  
Tony shook his head. “I can’t go down if I’m worrying about you. It’s easier with Tim. Been there, done that.”   
  
Jethro twitched his lips and eyebrows, acknowledging Tony’s point. “But you trusted him to make that choice for you. That’s what you needed, someone to push your limits. He just pushed a different one than you were expecting.” Tony shrugged. “I’ve done some work on this, Tony. Worrying about me isn’t going to be an issue.”   
  
Tony searched his eyes for any hint of apprehension, and swallowed hard when all he saw was confidence and arousal. “Do you WANT this?” He couldn’t believe it. Jethro MUST be thinking of the light and easy stuff they’d done before. But even then, he didn’t look like this until they were deep into it.   
  
Jethro pulled Tony closer, until he was flush against him and he knew Tony could feel his arousal, then gripped his hair tightly and tugged, exposing Tony’s throat. “You think I’d be here if I didn’t? You think Tim would call me if he thought you wouldn’t get what you needed?”   
  
Tony swallowed against the vulnerable position, but Jethro didn’t let go. They stayed together for what seemed like forever, Tony’s arms at his sides, throat bared, Jethro’s fingers fisted in his hair and his mouth hovering over Tony’s pulse. Eventually, it was Tony who gave in. His shoulders relaxed, his head dropped back into Jethro’s hand, and Jethro buried his lips against the delicate skin, leaving a deep mark in their wake.   
  
“Come to the cabin with me. I have a surprise for you.” Jethro’s voice was low, but firm. Tony nodded, and Jethro’s hand slipped from his hair to gather the coat around him.   
  
“Can I have those pants now?” Tony asked, smiling.   
  
“Nope.” Jethro said, grabbing the leash and pulling Tony toward the door of the apartment.

Jethro cranked the heat in his car, and tucked a blanket around Tony's legs. He was slightly shaky, but he was pretty sure it wasn't just the cold.

It was a long ride, but neither said a word. When they got to the cabin, Jethro was immediately glad he’d fixed the motion sensor on the lights. He guided Tony inside the warm main room and spent the first few minutes stoking the fire and making sure the vents were open to both bedrooms upstairs. When he turned, Tony was still standing where he’d left him, hugging the coast against his bare skin desperately.  “I said I have a surprise,” Jethro said, as he pushed the coat off Tony's shoulders and handed him an old, cedar-scented quilt to wrap around himself. “Come with me.”

Tony followed him upstairs and got a mini tour. _Well, it IS a 'mini’ house_ , he thought. “Bathroom is downstairs, this is the master bedroom, and _this_ …” Jethro opened the door and Tony gasped, “ _this_ is your surprise. I hope it’s ok…” In the center of the room was a St. Andrews cross. Darkly stained wood with padded black leather, it was beautiful.

Tony draped the quilt over the end of the bed in the corner and walked toward it, sliding his hands over the smooth surfaces. “I've never seen one like this…”

Jethro came up close behind him, “I added a few things, just for you.” He placed his hands on Tony’s hips, “working with wood is like meditation for me. This helped me figure a lot of things out.”

Tony sighed. This was supposed to be an easy thing. Familiar. Tim’s hands and paddle and cuffs, no thinking. He stepped closer to the cross, inhaling the smell of the high quality leather, feeling the brass rivets along the edges, and he felt Jethro grasp one of his wrists. Wordlessly, he pushed it higher along the arm of the cross, until Tony felt a padded handle. Automatically, his fingers wrapped around it, and Jethro stroked his other hand down his opposite arm to repeat the process. “Don't. Move.” Jethro ordered, and Tony’s forehead fell the last inch to rest on the padding in front of him.

Jethro stepped back and felt his cock jerk at the sight in front of him. Tony's almost naked body spread out and trusting, just waiting for his touch and direction. He’d tried to picture this many times over the past weeks as he worked on this piece, but nothing could prepare him for the sight. The sweat starting to bead between his shoulder blades, the slight quiver to his left thigh, the shallow breathing as he tried to stay still. Jethro could help with that...he went to the old dresser in the corner and pulled out the silk fabric he’d pilfered from Tony's room when he wasn't looking. He wanted these to mean something, even if they moved on to cuffs and ropes, these would always stay in rotation, he’d make sure of it.

Tony shivered as he felt the material drape across him. He didn't open his eyes at the jangling sound, nor the soft sound of fabric sliding across metal. Jethro loosened his fingers enough to wrap the silk around his wrist, then cinched it tight, causing him to gasp. Maybe Jethro knew what he was doing after all…

Jethro repeated the process with Tony's other hand, and then dragged his fingernails across Tony’s shoulders and back, leaving faint trails of pink in their wake. “I heard your hard limits at McGee's, but I want you to tell _me_.”

Tony turned his head to the side, “anything illegal, bodily fluids...except semen, for you.”

Jethro grinned at that, but he kept stroking Tony's exposed skin. “And here are mine. I will never purposely cause broken skin or cuts. No humiliation or objectification. And if, for any reason, you lose consciousness, it all ends.” He’d hoped the last one was a given, but he wanted to be clear. His hand slid around to Tony's chest and he raked his nails across the lightly furred skin, “objections?”

Tony’s muscles trembled under his hand, but he shook his head. “No, Boss.”

Jethro stepped back and returned to the dresser. He found the padded leather cuffs and set them on the floor, then raked his fingernails up Tony's legs until they hit the black fabric of the boxer briefs. He growled at the thought that these had been in Tim’s dresser just an hour and a half before, and roughly tugged them down. “I don't need you covered for this.”

Tony spread his legs just enough to facilitate his undressing, and Jethro surprised him when he wrapped his fingers around his ankle and pulled it to the side. “Ungh” his weight fell against his wrists, and instantly he knew this would give him an idea of how Jethro would handle this.

Jethro smacked his other leg and then continued cuffing him. “Gotta pay more attention.” He said, as he grasped Tony's other ankle. Tony smiled slightly. There was no coddling, no checking on his wrists, no apologies. This was a matter of trust for both of them. Tony trusted Jethro, no, _Boss_ , to take him to his limits without harm, and he was trusted to make it known if there was something wrong. “Now let me show you a little something I built into this.” Jethro whispered into his ear. Tony shuddered at the closeness, Jethro's jeans-clad erection pressing against his hip. And then it was gone, and Tony held back his groan of disappointment. He rested on the balls of his feet, listening to the sounds of bolts shifting, and then his upper body started to move. He gasped at the stretch along his back, until his feet were lifted from the floor and his weight rested on his chest and stomach, his body bent nearly 90 degrees.

Jethro checked the tension at his ankles, satisfied that they were taut, but not painful, then brought his fingernails back up Tony's legs to his exposed ass. “Now, I spoke too hastily at Tim’s. I won't punish you, _this time_ , for going to someone you trust.” He kneaded Tony's cheeks with his calloused palm, making his breath stutter and his cock jump. “So, this isn't punishment. Is it?” Tony didn't answer, and Jethro grasped his left cheek hard, drawing a surprised yelp, “I asked you a question,” Jethro’s voice rumbled low in his chest.

“No, Boss.” Tony admitted.

Jethro released Tony's ass, gently tickling the red marks from his fingers. “No. Because this is what you need. Bent over, bound, willing to let me do whatever I want to you. When I _do_ punish you, you sure as hell won't like it.” The cold warning sent a shiver down Tony's spine. “Let’s start with a little payback, hm?” Tony swallowed hard when he realized Jethro wasn't touching him at all. He felt even more naked without those hands on him, and then, just as Jethro whispered, “except I don't have a paddle,” Tony felt the hard slap to the center of his right cheek. _Holy fuck!_ Tony thought. _He doesn't NEED a paddle!_

“How many, Tony?” Jethro asked. Tony scrunched his face in confusion, then grunted as another blow landed on his left cheek. “Answer.”

“Um, 20?” Tony answered, hoping he was right.

He was wrong. Another smack, “try again.”

Suddenly, the light bulb went off in Tony's brain. _Payback_. “30, Boss.”

Jethro gently stroked Tony’s flushed ass, “Good boy. Now count for me.”

How Jethro was making this happen without causing _himself_ pain, Tony had no idea. He’d be sore for days, with the blows landing in a brutal rhythm, spread across his ass and thighs. By 15, he felt the tears spilling across his cheeks, but Jethro didn't let up. By 20, the pain was constant, and his body was relaxed and he was barely aware of his own voice counting aloud. Jethro paused at 26, letting himself admire his handiwork. Tony was covered in a light sheen of sweat, his breathing shallow and even, his hard cock trapped awkwardly between his thighs, straining and leaking onto the black leather. He brought his final four strikes along the insides of Tony's thighs, very nearly catching his balls on the last two.

Tony felt Jethro's hands strike the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and his voice rose with each one. He recognized Jethro's response to the first time he’d paddled him, but Tony was fully aware of how aroused he was. His body was flying on endorphins now, and he hoped this wouldn't be all Jethro had planned.

Jethro stepped back and took a breath, massaging his hand and debating on how to proceed. He pressed his hand against his own erection, and decided it was time for a little more time with Tony's ass. Quietly, he opened the top drawer of the dresser again and pulled out three toys and some lube. He slowly removed his own shirts, but left his jeans. Tony seemed to enjoy the feeling of the rough denim against his skin. He stepped firmly behind Tony, pressing against his inflamed skin, and grabbed both cheeks hard, spreading them as he pressed forward even more. Tony couldn't hold back the moan that came from deep inside. “Is this what you want? You expect me to just paddle your ass, then fuck you?” Jethro laughed coldly. “Wishful thinking.” He ran a slick finger along Tony's hole and pushed inside in a smooth stroke. “But I am going to fill your hole.” Soon, just a little too soon, he pushed a second, and then a third finger inside. Tony whimpered at the burn, but Jethro aimed right for his prostate, making him wish for a gag to bite down on.

Then suddenly he was gone. Tony groaned and tried to thrust his hips back, but he couldn't move. “Oh no, I measured well. You're not moving, Tony.” Then he felt Jethro's hands between his thighs, and something wrapped tightly around his balls and cock. “No cumming until I say.” Tony had figured as much, but he shuddered at the order anyway, and then there was something else, cold and slick, pressing against his hole. He tried to relax as Jethro smoothly slid the small angled plug into his ass and it settled against his prostate.

“You know,” Jethro said, as he backed away from Tony, staying in his blind spot, “I should thank you. This isn't something I'd ever admit to enjoying. But whatever the reason behind it, I do.” He didn't touch Tony, he kept his steps silent as he paced, knowing the absence of sensation, and hearing him speak as much as he was, was nearly as intense as the spanking that had left him sensitive and inflamed. “Seeing you like this, stretched out for me, bound and plugged, hard and wanting. Knowing I could pull that plug out and fuck you...or turn out the light and leave you here...or take my belt to your back...and you couldn't do a thing about it. You can't cum without my permission. You can't _move_ without me allowing it.” Tony's breathing was fast and shallow, precum dripping down his thigh from the leather pad against his groin.

Finally, Jethro stepped around to Tony's side, then around the arm and between Tony's bound wrists. He ran his fingers up the sensitive insides of his forearm and elbow, earning a shiver and moan, “I want to hear you now.” Jethro said, and ghosted his fingers over the other arm. Tony pressed his forehead against the cushion and gasped, then yipped as the cushion drooped away. He caught himself before his head dropped completely, and Jethro gripped his chin as he knelt in front of him. “Pretty much every piece of this is adjustable. I've got so many ideas.” His feral grin made Tony’s stomach clench and his trapped cock attempt to twitch. “But for now, why don't you show me how good you can be?” He stood up and made a show of unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping his fly. Tony groaned when he saw the man wasn't wearing underwear and his hard cock sprang from his jeans, a thin string of precum stretched from the tip to where it had grazed the zipper. Tony licked his lips and then slid his tongue around the head as far as he could reach. Jethro wasn't coming forward, so Tony did his best with just his tongue. Jethro rested his hands on the wooden frame and leaned his upper body onto them, still just barely out of reach of Tony’s lips, grinning at the quiet pleading sounds coming from the man beneath him.

Eventually, Jethro had to back away, the sad whimper from Tony made him reach down and clasp a hand around the base of his cock with a grunt. “Nonverbal safe word, Tony.” Tony looked up and snapped his fingers twice. Jethro nodded, then grasped Tony's chin and leaned forward, pushing his cock into his mouth. Instead of stopping at the head, Jethro pushed forward, feeling Tony trying to open up his throat. His body lurched as he gagged, but Jethro pressed in, gently stroking Tony's throat as it worked around his head. He held his breath, and when he felt the need to inhale, he pulled back, groaning as Tony worked him with his tongue instead of fighting him. As soon as he felt Tony inhale, he pushed back in, past Tony's gag reflex, and held himself there again, shaking as he felt the tight heat of Tony's throat as he swallowed around him, stroking his cheek and the bulge in his throat, until he pulled back and Tony sucked in another breath.

Then he pulled almost all the way out, and flipped a switch on the controller in his hand. Tony cried out around Jethro's cock as the plug in his ass started vibrating wildly, rumbling against his prostate. And then, without waiting for Tony to adjust to the dual assault, Jethro pushed back in rougher than before. He held Tony's chin and began fucking his throat on earnest, grunting with each thrust, his fingers digging into Tony's shoulders, pulling him forward as best he could, knowing it would push his cock against the leather.

Tony moaned around his cock when he could, sending the vibrations straight to Jethro's balls, until he pulled out quickly and squeezed himself hard. For all the abuse, Tony's eyes were glazed over, breathy moans still coming from deep in his chest as he twisted his hips against the leather, trying to thrust or get friction in some way. Every breath carried a moan or a whimper, and Jethro stepped back to regain his composure. He flicked the vibrator off, and Tony arched his back at the loss. “Hmmm, God, you're gorgeous like this.” He ran his fingers up and down Tony's back again, “your body so responsive, moaning and trembling at the slightest touch. I just want to…” he stepped up close behind Tony, his cock above Tony's ass, “I should just finish myself...cum all over your back...how does that sound?” He knew he wouldn't, but he wanted to hear Tony object.

“Please…” Tony keened

“Please what?” Jethro smirked.

“Please, Boss...please let me cum...please fuck me...please…” Tony was babbling, but he’d begged. Faster than Jethro expected, actually, and he couldn't really deny his boy.

He yanked the plug from Tony’s ass and reached between his legs, “don't cum until I say. Got it?” Tony nodded. Jethro reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair, “I asked you a question,” he snarled.

“Yes Boss,” Tony practically yelled as Jethro unsnapped the cock ring and plunged into him with one stroke. The plug wasn't large enough to prep him properly, and Jethro didn't wait for his body to adjust before fucking him hard and fast, and God, it hurt...but it sent Tony higher than he’d been in months. Jethro was pulling his hair, bruising his hips and shoulders, hammering his prostate, and he was just trying not to cum. Trying to stay back from the edge. Trying to be whatever Jethro wanted right then. He was moaning and screaming and crying and begging all at once, and it just spurred Jethro on until Tony heard the magic words.

“Cum for me Tony! Fuck...cum now!” Tony screamed his release as Jethro stilled and cursed, filling Tony more than he thought possible.

Slowly, carefully, Jethro pulled out of his lover, stroking his skin as he did, enjoying each twitch and tremble until he reached to the towel at his feet and grabbed the final toy. He used a lot of lube, and slid the wide plug into Tony's ass, making sure to catch the few drops of his cum that had escaped. Tony gasped and shuddered as he clenched around the neck. "Maybe I'll add to this in the morning," Jethro whispered as he slid his hands down and unbuckled the ankle cuffs. He stepped over slightly and pulled the end of the silk to release Tony's wrist, repeating it on the other side, then gathered Tony in his arms, first helping him stand, then turning him so they were facing. He was still stroking him all over, both comforting and making sure he’d kept his promise, that there were no serious injuries from his rough handling. Slowly, he walked them both back to the queen size bed in the master bedroom, where he’d kept a bowl of water in front of the stove vent. Tony collapsed onto the bed and Jethro grabbed the cloth from the bowl. He gently wiped them up, then climbed into bed

“I love you.” Jethro whispered as he pulled Tony against him. Tony simply hummed or mumbled something that could be interpreted as “love you too.” He was still out of it, but Jethro didn't need reassurance. He knew, without a doubt, he’d found someone he could trust. And he trusted that Tony felt the same way about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand, I added a teeny bit more at the end ;)


	81. Monday+15 1215

Tony sighed as he felt sunlight on his cheek...and... _ holy crap! _ He bundled the blanket around his face and curled into a ball against the chill in the air.  _ 'I’ll keep you warm,’ my ass _ , he thought. The room was cold enough he’d probably have an innie if he checked his cock right now, and without moving, he could tell the bed was empty. “Stayed the night and I'm  _ still _ waking up alone.” Tony grumbled against the thick comforter.

“Can't a guy make you breakfast in bed?” Jethro asked, and Tony jumped. “You look like a burrito,” he chuckled as he came around the side of the bed with a tray of food.

“You're wearing layers.” Tony said, pulling the covers over his nose.

“I threw some clothes over the vent to warm them for you. Said I'd keep you warm.” Jethro sat the tray on the nightstand and slid under the covers behind Tony. “I’ll warm you up first,  _ then _ we can eat.” He slid his warm hands around to stroke Tony's chest, and pressed his hips against Tony's ass, jostling the plug that Tony had all but forgotten.

_ Nope, definitely NOT an innie anymore _ , he thought, as his cock jumped and twitched with Jethro's attentions. “How do you plan on keeping me warm?” He asked, wriggling his hips a little.

“Well, first I'm going to bury my cock in your ass and fill you up. But you're not gonna cum. You're gonna wait until that plug is back inside you, holding all of my cum where it belongs,” Jethro’s low voice made Tony whine and gasp at the suggestion. “Let's go from there,” Jethro continued, and grasped the base of the plug. He stopped. “Yes?”

Tony’s brow furrowed,  _ yes what? _ He thought. Then,  _ consent _ ,  _ duh _ . He mentally headslapped himself. “Yes, please God, yes.”

Jethro tugged firmly on the plug, until Tony's body stretched to release the widest part, and he slowly pulled the rest out, making sure he didn't make a mess. He wrapped his fingers around his cock and stroked the lube along his shaft liberally, then plunged into his lover in one thrust. “Fuck, Tony. So fucking tight,” he rumbled, waiting for Tony to push back against him.

“Damnit, Jethro. Move. Fuck me.” Tony growled. He wasn't the whimpering sub right now, he needed to know what else Jethro had planned, and it was clear he wouldn't find out until Jethro was ready.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Jethro smirked, as he snapped his hips forward and drove himself deeper. Tony gasped, and Jethro continued, pulling one hand around Tony's chest, and using the other to pull his leg up and back over Jethro's hip. Tony was sensitive and his cock was leaking into the sheets, but he tried to hold back. Until Jethro wrapped him in a hand and slicked him with warm lubricant.

“Ooooooohhhhhh,” he cried, “no fair!” He thrust back against Jethro, starting to lose himself in the dual sensations, until Jethro's voice was in his ear.

“D’you know what I want next?” His thrusting slowed, and Tony paid attention, “I want to cum inside you, fill you up, then slip this plug back in.” Tony hummed in agreement, they’d already gone over this. “And you're gonna be hard and slick, and full of my cum, and you know what you're gonna do?”

Tony moaned and shook his head, “please, Jethro…” he wasn't even sure what he was begging for.

Jethro was shaking and knew he was getting close, but he kept thrusting, kept pushing Tony closer to the edge, “Tony, I'm gonna cum in you...fill you up...plug you up... then we’re gonna switch, Tony.”

Tony moaned and threw his head back on Jethro's shoulder. “God, yes!”

“I'm all ready for you, Tony. Took care of it before I brought your food.” Jethro's voice was breathy and cracking as he neared his release, and Tony whimpered from the effort of staving off his own. Just the thought of Jethro stretching himself was nearly enough to make him cum. “God….Tony…” Jethro was reduced to single words with each thrust until he cried out his name and shuddered, pulling Tony close and gripping his cock tight, pulling a deep moan from his lover.

After a few seconds, Jethro shakily pulled back out slowly and pushed the plug back into Tony's ass, making him whine with need. Jethro was still panting behind him, but Tony froze.  _ Did he really mean that? _

“Don't ruin the moment,” Jethro growled, “get me hard again, Tony. Fuck me, cum in my ass, then you can clean me up and suck me off.” Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then rolled over. Jethro's cock was quickly softening, but Tony stroked him gently. He gasped and trembled as the over sensitive skin was touched and squeezed and Tony captured his mouth in a deep kiss.

Quickly, he felt the blood returning to the member in his hand and he grinned. He kissed Jethro thoroughly, until the man rolled onto his side and pressed himself against Tony and leaned his head back onto him. Tony leaned down and sucked a mark onto his throat and reached between them to line himself up. He wrapped an arm around Jethro and started touching his stomach, his chest, his nipples, and with one particularly audible gasp, he pushed inside with a short thrust. Jethro whimpered and whispered, “yes...yes, Tony,” with each small stroke as Tony pushed himself deeper and deeper. He wouldn't last long, and he knew it, but he kept holding back. Until Jethro pushed back into him and reached a hand around to grab his hips. “Fuck me like you mean it, DiNozzo.” He growled, and that was it.

Tony grabbed Jethro's hip for leverage and pulled his torso close, sucking on his neck and back, whispering words of praise and affection with breathy moans into his ear, listening for the moans and whimpers that told him Jethro was enjoying this as much as he was. All too quickly, Tony felt his release coming, a pull deep in his belly, and his rhythm faltered, until he gave one last thrust and came deep inside his lover for the second time in their relationship.

They stayed together for what seemed like eternity, sweat covered, still bundled under the thick duvet and cheap sheets. Tony kept kissing Jethro gently, stroking his belly, chest and thighs, enjoying the trembling beneath his fingertips and the gasps as he ran them over Jethro's taut nipples. “You want to cum again?” Tony asked. Jethro’s body answered for him, tightening around Tony's softening cock inside his ass. “Do you want me to suck you in the shower, or finish this right here? Arms around you, my cock still inside you…”

Jethro nodded, “now...stroke me Tony, please,” Tony grinned and wrapped his long fingers around Jethro's cock. He groaned as Jethro tightened around him again, cursing his age. 10 years ago, he’d have  _ stayed _ hard for something like this, but now he felt himself being squeezed out of his lover.

Until Jethro started talking again. The man barely strung 3 sentences together during the day, but during sex, he didn't hold back. The rumbling moans and seemingly nonsense babbling interspersed with Tony's name and pleading guidance for 'faster,’ 'harder,’ or 'yes, right there’ brought Tony back to a state of semi hardness. He thrust lightly, just enough that Jethro could feel him, and Jethro threw his head back, his body rigid, Tony's name sliding from his lips with a hiss as he came hard. Tony stroked him through it, kissing and sucking on the exposed neck before him, until he collapsed against him with a groan.

“I’m too old for that,” Jethro grumbled, when he’d regained his ability to speak.

Tony smiled into his neck, “complaining?”

Jethro chuckled, “not at all.”

“Shower?” Tony asked.

“About that...No hot water.” Jethro said, and Tony gasped.

“How the hell am I supposed to clean up?!”

Jethro pulled him closer against his back, deciding to enjoy the rare occasion he chose to be the little spoon. “I've got water warming on the stove, we mix it with the cool water I already put into the tub.”

“Lukewarm bath? And you wonder why I hate camping!”

*****

An hour later, Tony was curled on the couch, dressed in sweats, covered in the blanket Jethro had given him the night (morning?) before. Jethro came into the room with the tray of food he’d reheated from the bedroom, complete with a giant mug of hot cocoa. “Don't spill on that quilt,” he said, running his fingers across the design draped on Tony's shoulders. “It was my mother's.” Tony gasped and slipped the quilt off his shoulders, carefully folding it behind him, but Jethro grinned. “Doesn't mean you can't use it, Tony. She made it to be used.”

Tony looked up at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “After I'm done with spillable stuff. You'll just have to be my blanket.” He spun his hips and held out his arms so Jethro could sit against his chest. They ate together in silence for a while, until Jethro gave a deep sigh. “Ok, what's on your mind?” Tony asked.

“We should probably talk about it.”

“About what?” Tony asked, kissing Jethro's cheek.

“Our 'activities’ last night.”

Tony tensed, “are you ok?” He hadn't caught any trepidation or regret at the time, or this morning, but maybe he was too far gone to notice…

“Yeah, I'm ok, but I’d rather talk limits and stuff when we’re not in the middle of it.” Jethro turned slightly to look him in the eye.

Tony gave him a crooked grin, “is that why you wanted to come out here? Make us a playroom you don't have to soundproof?”

Jethro actually looked a little wounded, “no! Tony, that came later. I chose to stay here because I didn't have to make any kind of commitment. I didn't want to be forced into some kind of time frame for whatever we decided to do together. I mean, buying a place would be long term, renting would be at least a year, and I didn't want to lock into anything. Then, I started thinking about what McGee said...” he stopped. He wasn't sure he should have mentioned that.

Tony blinked a few times, “and, pray tell, what DID McGoo say?”

“That eventually, there’d be a time when you needed to lose control. And you'd need, or want, more than what little we'd done. And that he’d never outright refuse you.”

Tony grinned, “damn! Probie got balls! I mean, duh, I know it wasn't at work or anything, so I'm not as surprised as others might’ve been, but he’s totally intimidated by you, you know that, right?”

Jethro snorted, “I'm starting to get that. But I'm glad he did what he did. I got some books, started reading, found some plans online, and as I worked on that cross, it was easier to accept that I did want more. Doesn't make me a bad person. I know I'll never be able to do some things, but I want to learn.”

Tony nodded and kissed Jethro's cheek again, then cupped his chin and kissed him properly. “Thank you. I know it wasn't easy for you.”

Jethro sat up and pulled a book from the end table. He held it in his hands and opened it to a dog eared page, fingering the paper. Tony saw an inner monologue happening and just waited. He saw Jethro's pulse quicken, before he set his jaw, passed Tony the open book, then grabbed his almost empty coffee cup and stormed into the kitchen. If Tony wasn't used to his storming, he’d take it as rude, but that was just anxiety. He looked down to the book and noted the title of the chapter was about learning to respect the sub. The first line was a quote, that in the author's experience, the best way to learn how to be a good Dom/Domme was to be a sub first. Tony took note of the crumpled dog ear--Jethro had folded and unfolded this page multiple times.  _ Fuck _ , he thought.  _ He actually wants to submit to me...? _

Tony closed the book and slowly approached the corner of the kitchen where Jethro was hiding. Not hiding, just awkwardly leaning on the counter so as to be out of the view of the living room. He took the cup of coffee from his hands and held them in his own. “Not now, not today, not yet, but someday…” he said, as he met Tony's eyes. “Just another thing I was thinking about, and I kept the rest from you, until it was almost too late. That’s not fair. I shoulda told you about that, so I'm telling you this now.”

Tony pulled him close, “I'd never ask it of you, but if you wanted to, we can. I want you to trust me, and I promise to trust you.”

Jethro straightened and nodded, then reached over for his coffee. “So, ground rules? For what we've already started.”

Tony nodded, he blushed a bit, but it wasn't like he hadn't had this discussion before. “I like pain, but nothing bloody or play piercing or suspension from hooks or stuff like that…” he shuddered at the thought of some of the things he’d seen people enjoy. He didn't judge, but the image was not a good one for him. “I don’t do scat or urine, that’s just unsanitary. I'm not into serious animal role play. Like, you want to growl like a grumpy bear or something, that's cool, because you do that anyway,” Tony ducked from the headslap he knew was coming, “but I don’t do furry stuff. I know lots of people like lots of different stuff, I just don't see the appeal. Also, obviously, nothing illegal.”

Jethro nodded, “I admit, pain-wise, anything more than a good spanking will take time for me. But I'll never purposely break the skin. Said that already. I won't ever call you names or belittle you, treat you like an animal or just a plaything. Whatever you give to me, I'll respect that. I can't intentionally humiliate you or dehumanize you by making you do degrading things.”

Tony interrupted, “before you go on to the next thing you said last night...can we revise it a bit?” Jethro looked confused. Why would Tony not want him to stop if he passed out? “I’m perfectly fine if we fall asleep in a position and continue when we wake up. I'd love to sleep with your cock in my ass.”

Jethro raised his eyebrows at the thought, then nodded, “ok, an exception to the rule. But if it’s not discussed ahead of time, that won't happen either.”

Tony nodded. “Now, all this talk of kinky things has got Downstairs Tony wide awake. Your kitchen is warm enough I might be able to lose the sweats…”

Jethro curled his lip into a grin, “ya think?” And in no time flat, Tony was pushed down onto the kitchen table, their pants dropped to their thighs, the plug tossed into the empty sink, and Jethro added yet another load of his cum to Tony's ass.


	82. Wednesday+17 1900

Two weeks later, after a particularly grueling case, Tony sped down the road to his house. He didn't wait to see what Jethro's plans were, he was too exhausted and he just needed sleep. As he pulled into the driveway, he saw the man leaning on his car. “Still unlocked,” he said, grabbing his bag from the car.

“Didn't want to surprise ya.” Jethro replied, pushing himself off the car. “Let me make you a steak.”

Tony wasn't about to turn down Jethro's steaks, so he opened the door and held it for him. “Just...I'm not…”

Jethro knew. He was exhausted, and they'd seen way too much blood over the past week to be interested in sex right now. “Me too.”

After eating, they relaxed together on the couch, Jethro reading a book, Tony watching a movie with his head in Jethro's lap. Jethro was absentmindedly running his fingers through Tony’s hair, an action he now performed automatically whenever the situation allowed.

Tony kept a hand on Jethro's knee, a point of contact he needed right now. He was almost ignoring the movie, thinking about how far they'd come, and how  _ nice _ this was. He’d never settled down in a relationship before and felt that it was  _ nice _ . Whenever someone wanted to settle down was when he got bored. He’d move on to the next new conquest. Tim had lasted the longest, honestly, because he was so damn eager to please. Even at his strongest and most dominant, even paddling him until he screamed, and laughing about it, he still just wanted to give Tony what he needed.

Jethro was different. He wanted Tony to be happy, and he'd adjust his life to do it, but he wasn't going to compromise what he needed. It took Tony too long to realize Tim wasn't getting what he truly wanted from their relationship. Tony, with his on again, off again submission, and his need to have his body forced into it, had worn Tim down. He wanted something more consistent, gentler, easier. Tony blamed work when he let Tim go, but he could tell the younger man was grateful. Jethro was fighting to give them  _ both _ what they needed. Tony wasn't worried about pushing him into anything he didn't want, not anymore. Even this comfort, the gentle stroking of his hair that he'd given even before they'd been together, was freely offered.

He realized his grip on Jethro's leg had tightened, just as a gentle tap was laid to the back of his head. “You're thinking too loud.” Tony snorted, it was like he was a mind reader. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the man peering down at him, as he placed his readers on top of his head. “Wanna talk about it?”

Tony shrugged, “just realized something…” Jethro crooked an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. “This is nice.”

Jethro huffed, with a smile, “I hope so, my leg is about to fall asleep, and I think you drooled a little.”

Tony rolled his eyes and sat up, “ha ha, very funny,” he said dryly. “That's not what I meant. I mean,  _ this _ . Just being together for the sake of being together. Not just for sex or a pre-organized date or something. I've never…” Tony felt silly admitting this. He was nearly 40 years old, and he’d never had this level of comfort in a relationship? It was embarrassing. But Jethro was just looking at him. Listening. Waiting.  _ Damn those eyes… _ “I've never been comfortable like this before. The second anyone started wanting  _ nice _ , I ran. Until now.”

Jethro smiled again and pulled Tony closer to him, “I like it too.” He kissed Tony lightly on the lips, “I haven't had this since…” his eyes lowered briefly, then he brought them back up, “since I fell in love with Shannon.” He said the words confidently, surprised at himself that he could talk about her without being overwhelmed, without the anger. Grief, sadness, it was always there, but it wasn't taking over anymore.

Tony flushed. He knew how much it meant that Jethro could talk with him about his wife. “I am totally in love with you, you know that, right?” He smiled.

Jethro nodded, “at your own risk,” he joked, then slid his bookmark to save his place and sat it on the end table beside him. “I love you, and I trust you.” Tony waited...there was more...the look on his face said there was more…Jethro sighed, “can we talk ground rules?”

Tony was a little lost. “Um...for…?”

Jethro licked his lips and looked at the room instead of at Tony. “If...when...I want you to…”

Tony’s face relaxed, and he touched Jethro's chin, gently turning it toward him. “You trust me. You can say it. You  _ need _ to say it, Jethro.” Tony wasn't going to talk about this if it made him that uncomfortable.

Jethro nodded curtly. “Fine. If I'm going to submit to you, we need to have ground rules.” The words came out harsh, but Tony knew it was because it wasn't easy for him to say, not out of anger.

“Anything.”

“Beyond what you've already done…” he gestured toward the basement, and Tony knew he was referencing the first paddling, so he nodded. Jethro continued, “pain just for pain’s sake isn't going to fly. Your hand on my ass is one thing, and I'd be ok with that, but anything else is a hard limit. Flogger, cane, belt, that kind of thing? No. It's hard enough pushing myself to use it on you.” They'd played a few times, though not as intense as the first time at the cabin, and the last time Jethro had given Tony a few licks with the flogger. He was still figuring out how he felt about it, but Tony had loved it.

Tony took his hand, “not everyone likes pain, Jethro, no harm in admitting it.”

Jethro nodded, “as a result of something else, it's fine. Rough sex, cuffs, biting,”

Tony noticed Jethro was obviously aroused at the thoughts, but this was not the time to point it out. “Except for a moderate spanking, no impact play. Easy enough.” He drew the line in the sand and Jethro seemed relieved that he'd summarized it so easily.

“You saw how he kept that kid…” Jethro started, but Tony interrupted.

“Even if you wanted it, I wouldn't risk injuring your shoulders again. If I want you with your hands above your head, you won't be standing for it.” Tony threw a little edge to his tone, a hint of what they were talking about, to gauge Jethro's reaction.

His ears began to turn a beautiful shade of pink Tony could see, even in the dim lighting. Definitely a good sign.

“Other than that, I'd stick to the rest we’ve set out already.” Jethro concluded.

Tony smiled, “sounds good. And if you think of anything else, tell me as soon as you can. If we do this, I don't want to be worried about doing something you object to. I understand it may happen, I won't hold it against you, but I want to know that there's nothing you  _ know of _ that would hurt you like that.” Jethro nodded once. “And we need a middle word. Something that tells me you need to slow down, pause, talk, whatever. If you want to stop one particular thing, but not the whole scene.”

Jethro smirked this time, “Semper Fi.”

Tony looked confused, “OK, but you need a new safe word, then…”

Jethro's smirk turned into a big crooked smile. “Fornell.”

Tony groaned, “well, it’s effective. You say his name during  _ anything _ sexual and it stops 100%.”

They both laughed and settled back on the couch. Jethro grabbed the remote before wrapping his arms around Tony, “now let’s rewind this...what are we watching again?”

*****

It took another 2 months for the FBI to call about DiNozzo Sr's case. Apparently, slave kidnapping was almost as low on the totem pole as stealing a candy bar, and the conspiracy to harm a federal agent was too muddy. Fornell had pushed what he could, but Senior had covered his tracks too well, and he could afford some really good lawyers. They had other things to prosecute, so they hoped a bunch of lesser charges would be able to give him at least some punishment.

As a witness for the prosecution, Tony was unable to attend the first few days of the case. He was short tempered and mentally absent at work, blowing up at anyone who got in his way. If he wasn't angry, he was joking excessively, like a nervous kid at a party, trying to make himself sound like he was OK. Jethro tried to draw him out, tried to corner him in the elevator, but he grumbled and dismissed him. “We’re not doing this at work,” or “I’m fine,” or even, “don’t you have evidence to get from Abby?”

At home, Tony pulled back as well, writing music in silence, ignoring Jethro's calls if he wasn't there, only mildly acknowledging his presence when he was. He called Fornell, called the prosecution, tried to get updates. He told them about the calls he’d received from his father's attorneys so hopefully they could add witness tampering to the list of charges, but nobody would give him any details. Most of the charges were white collar, and even Fornell was limited in his knowledge.

By the fourth day, they were ready for Tony and Jethro's testimony. As they sat outside the courtroom, Tony put a hand on Jethro's thigh. “I've been an ass. I shouldn't have.” He said, quietly.

Jethro put his hand on top of Tony's. “This hasn't been easy. I don't blame ya for being short with us.”

Tony shook his head, “It’s not fair. Not to you. He did this to you, and there’s nothing more I can do about it, and now, to top it all off, I’m being a bastard to you.”   
  
Jethro just looked at him. “No. First, he did this to YOU. Maybe I was a pawn, but this was about you. And the fact that they can’t prove that part of it…” he gritted his teeth and his nostrils flared, but he kept his words to himself. Courthouses have ears. “Second, you’ve withdrawn, but you haven’t been a bastard.”    
  
Tony glanced up, grateful for the kind words and support, but still skeptical. “I’ve been a bastard, Jethro.”    
  
The older man rolled his eyes then, and smiled, “maybe a little. But I’ve done worse, so no harm no foul.”    
  
Tony accepted that answer a lot easier, and leaned back against the wall behind the bench. “I wish I could do more. Nobody can talk to me, I don’t know what they know, I just feel like it’s all rigged to let him get away with it. With all of it.”    
  
Jethro threaded his fingers through Tony’s and squeezed his hand, “his son telling the truth about it all is bound to get the jury’s attention. You’ve prepped with the DA, you’re doing what you can.”    
  
Tony shook his head, “it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.”    
  
*****    
  
Tony had felt great about the case after his testimony. He was joking and pranking McGee the next day, as if nothing were wrong. He and Jethro had gone out to a play that night, and celebrated with some drinks at the cabin afterwards. Now that the weather was getting warmer, Tony was actually enjoying the little hideaway. Plus, Jethro had installed an on-demand water heater for unlimited hot water. Making love under the stars was now officially one of his favorite outdoor activities.    
  
Unfortunately, the defense’s case was taking much longer than expected. Witness after witness, character witnesses, experts, accountants, were all being called to the stand. Tony started getting more and more anxious, until one day, he nearly assaulted a suspect. The kid wasn’t being particularly evasive, just obnoxious. He was a 19 year old new recruit charged with drug possession. They needed his supplier, and Tony had gone off on him, throwing him against the wall, until Jethro broke in and pulled him out. McGee salvaged the situation, pulling a bad cop/good cop routine, and they got what they needed, and the kid wasn’t hurt, but Tony was losing it. He knew he was. Jethro pushed him into the elevator and hit the stop button. “This is NOT the time or place for this,” he growled. Tony had refused to go under during the trial, refused all but the most vanilla activities, which was fine for Jethro, but now he was spiraling out of control. Tony met Jethro’s glare with no sign of submission and growled right back. “And it’s not YOUR place to pull me in here to tell me that.”   
  
After several minutes of alpha male posturing, Jethro simply settled against the wall of the elevator. “at least you’re breathing normally now.”   
  
Tony had thought, for a brief second, that he’d won this juvenile staring contest, but he realized Jethro was right. He’d calmed down a lot. He’d focused on Jethro, instead of his own anxiety. Jethro wasn’t challenging him, like a pair of dogs gearing for a fight, he was making him focus. And it worked. He slammed the button to start the elevator and turned toward the doors. Jethro stood behind him and whispered, “we have tomorrow off. Come to the cabin tonight.”    
  
Tony didn’t turn around. “I’m not in the mood for that, I’ve told you.”    
  
“I have something else in mind,” he replied, with a brief touch to Tony’s ass as the doors slid open. Tony stepped out briskly, with no outward sign of the slightly better mood he was in.    
  
*****   
  
Jethro left as soon as Tony dismissed them, a quick glance and a nod told him Tony would follow shortly. Now he was pacing at the cabin, his stomach churning at what he was about to do. He’d been putting it off for a while, but now was the time, he was sure of it. Tony was losing it, he had no control over this case, no control over what was happening, no information to even think about how this would end, and if anything would make him want this, it was this case. Jethro had decided, if he was going to do this, he was going to do it all the way. He didn’t want to be babied, eased into it, or handled as if he’d break any second. That would just piss him off, and then he’d turn the tables and they’d never get anywhere. If Tony was going to take charge, he had to TAKE it. Any other time, Jethro would be concerned that his guilt and worry and insecurity would take over, but the way he’d been acting, he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a problem tonight.    
  
He’d decided he wanted to try this. Mentally. He’d witnessed, first hand, how it affected Tony, and he was curious as to how his body would react. He knew it would be different to give himself to someone, as opposed to having them take what they wanted. They’d talked about consent, they’d talked about limits, they’d talked about safe words, mentally Jethro was more than ready.    
  
But he was still anxious as hell. Fifteen years ago, if Shannon had expressed something like this, he’d be all on board, and he knew it. But his stomach was rebelling. He had to keep pushing the memories of his abuse out of his mind. They kept coming, though. He knew he would have to tell Tony all of this before they continued. He wouldn’t want Tony thinking it was HIM causing his panic.  _ If _ he panicked. No, he wouldn’t panic. He was breathing deeply, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Panic and anxiety are biologically unable to coexist with conscious deep breathing. Or so Ducky said.    
  
_ Ducky’s full of shit.  _   
  
He was anxious. No matter how deeply he was breathing.    
  
And he heard the crunch of tires in the driveway, saw the headlights swing past the front window. He grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it on the floor in front of the couch. This was it. His last chance to back out. He heard the engine shut off…or wind down…a soft little whine that almost made him laugh when he compared Tony’s Prius to his gas guzzler. As Tony’s footsteps hit the porch, Jethro stood behind the pillow and waited at parade rest. He could do this.    
  
Tony was tired. Mentally, mostly. Today had been fairly easy, work-wise, and he’d sent everyone home on time. He’d left half an hour later, and frankly, he was hoping for some steaks and maybe stargazing. If they weren’t using Jethro’s playroom, that was a fairly typical evening at the cabin, and he’d come to enjoy it. He opened the door and turned away from the living room, hanging up his jacket, removing his shoes, and putting his go bag into the closet. He didn’t notice Jethro until he turned around, half the sentence out of his mouth before he froze. “So, cowboy steaks for—“ Jethro was standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs similar to the ones he’d worn the first night they came to the cabin. In front of him was a wide pillow, one he’d used a few times before to cushion his knees as he knelt in front of Jethro, waiting for instruction. His heart was in his throat as the older man slowly and gracefully slid to his knees, keeping his hands clasped behind his back.    
  
Tony took a moment to gather himself. He couldn't deny he wanted this.  _ God _ he wanted this. But he needed to be sure Jethro wanted it. He slowly went into the living room, watching Jethro slightly shift, almost imperceptibly, to follow his movement. He only stopped when he was standing in his blind spot, where he’d need to turn his head fully if he wanted to see him. He didn't.

“Are you certain, Jethro?”

“Yes…” Jethro swallowed. They hadn't discussed what he should call Tony like this.

Tony realized the issue immediately. “Signore.” Italian for Sir. He’d thought about it before but never used it.

“Yes, Signore.” Jethro said, a very slight tremble visible in one of his hands.

“Is something holding you back? Speak freely.” Tony paced to the other side of Jethro, but still in his blind spot. He’d push him mentally before anything physical happened.

“Yes, Signore. I want this, but am anxious and…” he took a breath.  _ Honesty. Spit it out. _ “And if I panic, unless I say the safe word, you don't need to stop. I need to face that. What happened.” Tony noticed him clench his shaking hand tightly, stopping the motion, “it’s not because of you. Signore.” He released the last of the breath he’d been holding and closed his eyes, waiting for Tony's response. He also hoped Tony remembered his bad knee... _ should've talked about that one _ , he thought.

Tony took a moment to think about what he wanted. “Jethro, I'm not easy. I want all of you. Everything you have to give. I want you to give it to me willingly. I want you to  _ beg _ me to take it.” He leaned in close to Jethro's ear, “will you beg, Lover?”

Jethro couldn't help the shudder that ran down his back. Tony’s voice, deep and gravelly, his breath hot on his neck, it all went straight to his groin. “If you want me to, Signore.” He croaked.

Tony stood. He ran a fingertip across Jethro's toned shoulders. “Stay.” He turned and left the room.


	83. Friday+25 1745

Tony went upstairs to the bedroom and took some deep breaths. He knew Jethro would want to be pushed. But he needed to have a plan. He hadn't done this in too long. Everything was coming to him at once, and he needed these few minutes to let it sink in. He stripped and stepped in front of the closet. He pulled out one of his nicer suits that he’d left here. Three pieces. Some Doms liked leather, some preferred to be nude, but Tony played to his strengths. He looked damn good in a power suit, and he knew it. Slowly, he dressed completely, even toeing on a pair of shoes he found in the closet. Jethro would be naked and falling apart, while he was the picture of confidence, never even creasing his Armani.

That was the plan, anyway.

As he descended the stairs, he smiled. Jethro hadn't moved. He had to be uncomfortable, after a solid 20 minutes on his knees, his  _ bad _ knees, but he didn't flinch. Tony noticed he had widened his stance, but he couldn't fault him for that. He’d instructed him to 'stay,’ he hadn't said 'don't move.’

Tony stepped in front of Jethro and ran his fingers through his hair, gently at first, then he roughly grabbed a handful and held his head as he squatted in front of the older man. “You still want this?” He asked, almost  _ wanting _ Jethro to meet his eyes and challenge him.

Jethro swallowed hard. Tony looked amazing. His breathing was faster now, but he nodded as much as Tony’s grip would allow. “Yes, Signore.”

Tony released his grip and stood, holding out his hand, palm up. “Come with me. Take my hand.”

Jethro was thankful Tony was thinking of his knees as he stood, leaning more than he wanted to on the outstretched hand. He followed behind, part of him hoping they'd go to the bedroom. But Tony had made it clear he wouldn't be going easy on him. First, they went to the bathroom. “I can tell you're clean,” he stepped close to Jethro, rubbing his face along Jethro's cheek and ear, “but I need you clean inside too.” He stepped back and motioned inside. “come to me when you're done.”

Jethro found the necessary supplies and made sure he was as clean as possible, even though he’d done so about an hour before. He took a few deep breaths,and left. As he turned the corner to the playroom, Jethro paused briefly at the door. The cross was pulled out, arms retracted, legs spread wide, bent at the waist. He felt his muscles tighten and his stomach rebel, until he heard Tony's voice.

“Strip.”

Tony was standing beside the cross, calm and collected, still fully clothed, his arms crossed against his chest. Jethro didn't like being the one out of control. He'd anticipated letting Tony have his body, but he didn't expect to be naked and sweating and nervous and self conscious and only half hard, while Tony was confident and sexy and fully hard in his shiny grey suit. But he'd agreed to this. Slowly, he let the black shorts fall to the ground and then picked them up and dropped them into the hamper. House rules for Tony, he assumed the same would apply here.

“Come here.” Tony stepped directly in front of the cross and crooked a finger. Jethro stepped closer, his anxiety flagging any sense of an erection he had in the living room. Slowly, Tony ran his short fingernails over Jethro's chest, his shoulders, his belly. Hard enough to leave red lines in their wake, but not hard enough to hurt. He didn't seem to have a pattern, or a plan, he just let his fingers wander, traveling down Jethro's sides, across his hips, then back up his body. He didn't pause as they ran over his nipples, causing a hitch in Jethro's breath each time they caught and pulled, instantly tightening into hard sensitive buds. Then Tony stepped to the side, and pressed his body against Jethro's back as his hands continued their exploration, covering most of his body in a red flush. Tony pushed forward, causing Jethro to approach the cross, and he gasped when he was bent over and his over sensitive skin touched the cold leather.

“Don't get up.”

Jethro's hands gripped hard to the edge of the leather as he felt Tony pulling his ankles off the floor and into the stiff leather cuffs. He was off balance, his feet off the floor, his body balanced on a narrow board, nowhere for his hands to grasp. Then the fingernails were back, tracking angry red marks up his legs, across his thighs and ass. At the base of Jethro's spine, Tony stopped. He stepped back and opened the dresser, pulling out the silk ties Jethro was so fond of, and a pair of leather cuffs.

“Give me your hands,” he instructed, as he stepped behind Jethro. He tightened his grip on the leather with one hand, but reached behind his back with the other. Instantly, Tony's hand came down on his ass, harder than he expected, and he almost rolled off his precarious perch.

“Hands. Plural, Jethro.”

He felt his body tense and his fingers curl in rebellion, but he pulled his other hand back. Tony roughly cuffed him tight, then wrapped one of the long ties across his back and under the cross. He couldn't pick himself up if he tried, and he had no way of grabbing onto anything if he slipped. He felt himself start to panic. He pressed his forehead against the padding and tried to control the adrenaline rushing through his system. ‘Flight’ was not an option, ‘Fight’ was starting to take over, until Tony’s fingernails were back, bringing the blood to the surface of his ass, letting Jethro focus on the sensation. He went up and down Jethro's back, not catching any of the large scars, but not avoiding them either. Even though it was verging on painful, it grounded him. And soon, every hint of a draft on his skin, every slight brush of fine fabric, sent shivers down his spine.

“Do you want to be here?” Tony asked, one hand stroking his ass.

“Yes.” Jethro whispered.

*Smack* Tony brought his hand down across the bottom of Jethro's ass. “Yes, what?” He returned to his caressing action, running his fingers over the slightly reddened skin.

“Yes, Signore.” He said, feeling himself bristle now at the action.

*Smack* “I don't believe you.”

Jethro pressed his head down to try and maintain his position, to try and have some control over how he was secured.

*Smack* another red patch began to bloom, and again Tony ran his hands across the tingling skin. “You're here, yes, but you're just going through the motions.”

*Smack* Jethro's calves tightened, he had no leverage. Nothing to brace against. He pulled his arms forward, but those cuffs wouldn't move either.

*Smack* “If you don't want this, it can stop.” Tony slid his hands across Jethro's aching skin, making him gasp at the sensation. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. He was doing this, damnit.

*Smack* “you're not convincing me.” Tony was moving around now, his voice coming from different places, but each stroke was placed expertly, never exactly the same place twice, overlapping just enough to sting just a little more each time. Jethro's heart was pounding out of his chest, he knew he was growling under his breath, he was tensing in anticipation of each blow, but Tony never kept a set rhythm.

*Smack* “when you tense, it’s worse, Lover. Relax.” His words were calm and low, almost a purr, a sharp contrast to the strong hand stroking his skin.

*Smack* they were coming faster now, with less stroking in between. In his mind, Jethro knew they were just as hard as when Tony started, but the pain was less. 

*Smack* Maybe he was becoming accustomed to it, but as he forced himself to relax, Jethro found he was better able to focus on other things.

*Smack* The way Tony's hand seemed to keep returning to the small of his back, keeping him balanced and in place.

*Smack* The tingling and buzzing feeling on his skin between the blows.

*Smack* How much he trusted Tony.

*Smack* How much Tony trusted him.

*Smack* And with that, Tony felt Jethro's body shift and change. He relaxed, laid his cheek onto the leather, loosened his hands, and let Tony keep him balanced.

*Smack* Suddenly, Jethro thought about Carl. He tensed again, pulling against his bindings. He couldn't do this. “No...no...no more…” he muttered. But Tony didn't flinch.

*Smack* “You can end this, Lover. Or you can let me take you through it.” His hand kept caressing Jethro's skin.

*Smack* Jethro felt the tears in his eyes. He saw Carl, saw his whips, his chains. He waited to feel the bite of sharp pain as he was torn open. But all he felt was the same dulled pain of Tony’s hand.

*Smack* Tony was stroking his back with one hand, and his ass with the other. He wasn't Carl. But Jethro's body wasn't convinced.

*Smack* Tony was consistent. He was firm, but never increased his force or speed. He  _ was _ in a rhythm now. Jethro was finally going down. Maybe fighting the whole way, but he was getting there.

*Smack* Jethro couldn't believe Tony was still there. Still going. No sign of giving up. Why? Why didn't he just fuck him and get on with it?

*Smack* “You're so amazing, Lover. I’m here. I’ll be here.” What was the point of all this? Jethro had offered his body to be used, why was Tony doing this?

*Smack* “Let go. You can let go.” Why did he care? Jethro, bent over and bound, was just a hole to fuck. And he wasn't even doing that.

*Smack* “Trust me. Forget everything else. It’s just us here.” Just us. Why? Jethro didn't have anything else to offer. He’s a broken old bastard. Tony wasn't even taking what he was giving him.

*Smack* “I love you.” Tony caressed Jethro's sore ass, “Nothing else matters here.” Jethro started shaking, his chest started heaving with the sobs that were threatening to break free,

*Smack* “Let it go, Lover. Let it all go.” Jethro couldn't stop it, not anymore. He felt Tony's hands squeezing his sides, his thighs, his aching backside, and it was all too much. The tears hit the leather, one after another, as Tony pressed against him.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said, as he leaned over Jethro's body. “You are my Love, and I’ll never give you up, do you hear me?”

The words were strong, the tone almost feral, but he meant it. Nobody had wanted Jethro this strongly in years. Why would they? Jethro’s sobs subsided, but the tears still fell as Tony pushed two fingers roughly inside Jethro. “I love you, Jethro. And you're mine. And I'm never giving up on you. Ever.” Tony's words were growled and his fingers gripped his hip so hard they'd bruise, but the fierceness with which he was claiming him sent Jethro’s heart racing. He didn't know when he’d gotten hard, but with Tony’s fingers pounding against his prostate, his cock hard and swinging between his thighs, he felt himself nearing his release embarrassingly fast.

And then Tony pulled away, wiping his fingers on a towel draped across a chair. Jethro's eyes were hazy with tears, and he cried out at the loss, trying to push himself back, using his trembling body to beg for more. And Tony chuckled darkly. “Oh no, Lover. You’ll cum when I say you can. You’ll finish when I'm ready to fuck you, when I'm filling you with my own cum, when I  _ tell _ you to cum.” The last words were spoken into Jethro's ear as Tony slipped his jacket of his shoulders. He went to the closet and hung the jacket up, leaving the vest fully buttoned.

Jethro felt his cock twitch at the sight of his gorgeous lover. Strong, confident, slowly rolling his sleeves up his forearm, to just below the elbow. He stayed in Jethro's eyeline now, then pulled a chair next to him and sat down. “Do you like to watch me, Lover?”

Jethro nodded. “Yes, Signore,” he whispered, his voice still shaky.

Tony smiled, “and if I were to unzip my pants right now, would you watch me stroke myself?”

Jethro closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Yes, Signore.”

As he opened his eyes, he exhaled with a groan. Tony was stroking himself through the fine fabric of his pants, smirking at him. “But maybe I'm not feeling like showing off today.” He stood, the tenting of his pants making it obvious he wasn't wearing underwear, and grabbed the second silk tie he’d left earlier. He twisted it around his hands, letting it slide along his skin before draping it across Jethro's back and neck. The cool light brush of fabric was a sharp contrast to the rough handling Jethro'd had before, and it sent shivers down his spine.

And then Tony slipped it over his eyes and cinched it tight.  _ No...no... _ Jethro felt the panic rise again. Tony wasn't touching him, he couldn't see him…

“I'm not leaving, Lover.” Tony's voice cut through the panic. Jethro listened as he heard the sound of Tony lowering his zipper. He tried to breathe deeply as he listened. He thought back to his sniper training, controlling his heart rate and breathing to focus on his surroundings. To hear the soft sound of skin brushing against skin that told him Tony was touching himself.

“You don't need to see me to know I'm here.” Tony continued, his voice had just a touch of edge to it that belied his arousal. “If I say I'm not going anywhere, I mean it.”

Jethro was trying to believe it, Tony could tell. He was trying to relax, trying to trust him. Tony knew he still felt broken, like he wasn't worth his time, deep down. He hoped this was the push he needed, to face the demons that made him feel like that, and to know that he would be there through the whole thing. He’d never give up. He kept slowly stroking himself, barely touching his own skin as he waited for Jethro to come down from his panic. He knew the sound, as slight as it was, was grounding him now, and so he continued.

Until he saw the drop of shoulders and the loosening of fingers that told him Jethro was there. He was relaxed. He was ready for more. The spanking was intense, keeping him off balance and without any way to resist or gain control was intense, but what Tony had planned next was going to be the true test. He'd play it by ear, he'd end when he knew Jethro couldn't go further, but he'd push right to that edge. The thought of it made him clench his balls to keep his excitement from overwhelming him. He looked at his pants.  _ Damn _ . He wanted to keep them on, but he knew the precum would make a mess. He knew his body. He rolled his eyes at himself, knowing at least Jethro couldn't hear  _ that _ , and steadied himself. He was going to make this happen.

Jethro's breath stilled for a few seconds when he heard a rustle of fabric that told him Tony had removed his pants. He knew what was coming next, and he focused on relaxing himself. If Tony plunged into him, it would be much easier if he were relaxed.

But then his fingers were back, stretching him, playing with his hole, alternating with Tony's tongue. Oh god, his tongue. Jethro kept waiting for the moment Tony would step back and push into him, but it didn't come. He was ready, he knew he was, he was more than ready, but Tony just kept stretching and licking and twisting his fingers inside him. The more he did it, the more Jethro got lost in the sensation. Two fingers had quickly turned to three, and soon Tony slid in a fourth. Jethro hissed at the burn, but he was still writhing against Tony's fingers.

Tony grinned as he watched all four fingers of his right hand disappear into Jethro's body. He knew Jethro had gotten through some of his apprehension. He’d gone past the fear, past his demons, and was focused on the present. All that existed was his body, and Tony's hands and tongue and voice. It meant Tony had to be extra careful now, not to push his body too far. He knew that space well, and he’d been hurt when he couldn't see the danger or the pain. He’d never do that to Jethro.

“Lover, I'm going to give you more.” He felt Jethro tighten around his fingers.

“I can’t…” he whispered.

Tony leaned forward and grabbed his hair, his fingers still twisting inside Jethro. “You can, and you will.”

Jethro just whimpered. Tony made sure he was brushing his prostate as he talked, pressing slightly deeper every few passes. “You don't think you can, but I know you can do it.” He felt his knuckles pressing against Jethro's stretched muscle and sat back in the chair. He spread more lube across his hand and cupped his fingers, tucking his thumb against them. He pressed back inside, not getting as far this time, but that was understandable. Just adding his thumb meant a huge increase in size mostly because he wasn't as flexible in compressing them.

“I want to hear you now, Lover. Show me how you're feeling.” Tony ordered. He thrust inside again, pushing just a little harder, fully knowing they might not get much farther than this. Jethro moaned, the sound pulling from deep inside his chest, and it made Tony's cock twitch and he used his free hand to squeeze out the precum and lick it off his finger loudly. Jethro let out a shaky breath, obviously hearing it.

“Tell me. Tell me how you feel.” Tony ordered, his fingers pushing and spinning.

“Fuuuuck…” Jethro groaned, “too much…”

“Too much what? Talk to me.” Tony insisted. Jethro didn't often talk about his own body, unless it was dirty talk when he was fucking Tony senseless.

Tony pulled back and spun his fingers before pressing in again, and Jethro groaned, “it burns… Damnit...ugghhh”

“Relax your jaw. Moan, cry out, all of it, but relax your jaw. Trust me.” Tony's hand slipped forward a fraction of an inch and he knew Jethro was trying. “Good, Jethro. Good, you're amazing. I know it burns, but what else? Tell me. I'm not going any farther than you can handle. You can take it. Talk me through it.”

Jethro was panting, he felt like his ass was on fire every time Tony pushed into him, but then he'd pull back or spin his fingers and the burn would turn to a pleasure he couldn't describe. He couldn't do this. What was Tony getting out of this? Why wasn't he just fucking him and getting on with it? This was too much...too much attention. Jethro was the center of Tony's attention. He was bound and blindfolded and instead of taking his pleasure, Tony was focusing on him. “Take me...please…” he whimpered. This wasn't about him. Tony should be taking what he wanted. He couldn't take much more of this. This attention. The pushing, the caressing, the fucking without pleasure in return.

“I'll do what I want with you, Jethro. And right now, I want you to feel me inside you. How does it feel?” He could feel Jethro's body shaking, could see the sweat pouring off his body. He’d have to stop soon if Jethro didn't stop fighting it. He knew it was largely mental, and he wouldn't push that barrier if Jethro wouldn't give in, but he hoped he’d at least let Tony in. Emotionally. The physical didn't have to happen.

“You don't have to…” Jethro gasped and groaned, rolling his forehead on the padding. Tony recognized his sex-mumbling. He was getting to the hazy point where he just said whatever came into his mind. Usually it happened in the moments before orgasm, but he wasn't there yet. This was different. “This was for you...take what you need...why won’t you?...It’s too much...attention…”  

Tony paused and closed his eyes, trying not to let Jethro feel his response. He thought Jethro was fighting because of his bodily trauma. But it was his emotional trauma that was still holding him back. “It’s for  _ us _ , Lover. You asked me to push you. I want you to accept my attentions. Accept my love. Trust that I  _ want _ to give you everything. Everything I have. Tonight, you are the center of my attentions. And no, I changed my mind. I won't be fucking you. I'll cum just from feeling you cum on my hand.”

“Please...I can't…” Jethro was shaking now, but Tony wasn't giving up on him. He wasn't pushing now, he just thrust and spun the same as he had been. No more, no less.

“You can. You can let me fill you until you cum, long and hard, with me inside you. I want you to fall apart for me.”

Jethro felt Tony's free hand caressing his ass and lower back. The burn had eased, even though he knew Tony wasn't backing down. Now, every sweep of fingers, every brush of Tony's knuckles against his hole, sent shock waves up his spine. Tony wanted this. He wanted Jethro to do something he’d never done before. He never thought he’d ever do. Something he’d never trust anyone to do.

He trusted Tony. He decided to trust him with his body. More than he intended. He took some deep breaths, he relaxed his jaw, he relaxed his back, and he moaned freely. He heard Tony groan as he felt his knuckles push against his hole. “God, Jethro, yes...let me in...let it all go...let it all out…” Tony coached him through it, and the burn was back. Instead of fighting it, Jethro just moaned through it, letting the feelings beneath the pain go straight to his cock. He'd never felt like this. He'd never had anyone pay this much attention to him or his body. It was intense. More than the spanking, that was just a warm up. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He couldn't believe the burning was going away.

“You're almost there, Lover. You're so close,” Tony's voice was hoarse and Jethro heard the arousal. He laid his head down, placing his cheek on the leather, willing his body to relax. “Are you ready?” Tony asked. “I won't force it, but if it happens, it'll be fast, Love. Are you ready to take all of me?”

Fear gripped Jethro again, “no...I'm not...I can't…” he couldn't string a sentence together, not with Tony still thrusting into him as deeply as he’d been.

“If that's true, you know what you need to do, Lover.” Tony didn't push further. He was almost there. Jethro was hard again, leaking onto the floor, moaning every time Tony's knuckles started to breach his hole, but he wanted to give him some time to choose. This wasn't something he'd done often, but it was always an overwhelming experience. It had to be his choice, even if Tony was in control. “Let me in… stop me, or let me in, Lover.”

Tony waited again, pressing slightly more, and Jethro's gasp told him it burned again. But he didn't give his safe word. His exhale was shaky, and he groaned loudly when Tony pressed back, and then he whispered. “Yes...yes, Tony…” Tony pressed slightly more, watching Jethro's body as he panted loudly, then pulled back. He’d kept a close eye on his hand, adding more lube, and making sure there was no bleeding. He was certain now that Jethro could do this.

“God, Jethro...You have no idea what this is doing to me. Seeing you laid out for me, letting me fill you.” He talked as he thrust, pushing harder this time, “don't hold back, Jethro. Let me hear you.” Each time, Jethro moaned or groaned, until Tony felt his knuckles pushing past the ring of muscle. Jethro cried out, tears dampening the blindfold, but Tony pushed further this time, harder, “Let it out, you're doing so good, almost there…” Tony tried to stay calm, and pushed through Jethro's cries. He made no indication of his safe word, and Tony knew it would be over as soon as…

Jethro was about to say it. He couldn't do this. Tony's hand was pushing into him, and he felt like he was being torn in half. It wasn't as painful as he’d feared, but he couldn't take any more. This time, Tony wasn't letting up. He wasn't backing down. He was going to push until his hand was inside Jethro, and…

Tony felt his hand slide into Jethro's channel and his fingers curled into a fist. Jethro froze for a split second before his body convulsed in an unexpected orgasm, and Tony held himself as still as possible, letting him ride it out. His cock barely twitched, but the rest of his body shook and he moaned his pleasure, making Tony clench his own cock to keep himself calm.

Slowly, Jethro felt his body come back under control. He knew he was still hard, he'd cum, but he hadn't… He felt like Tony was filling his entire body, and he was terrified to move. He let his head fall to the leather below him, and tried to relax.

Tony let Jethro come down from his body's shock. It wasn't uncommon, he just needed to let things happen before he made him cum again. He stayed still, until he felt Jethro's breathing become deeper and more even. “I'm going to move, Love. Just a little.”

Jethro's heart was beating hard and fast, but it didn't hurt anymore. There was a dull ache and a feeling of total and complete fullness he never thought possible. And he wanted more. He nodded, and at the slightest shift inside him, Tony's knuckles brushed his prostate, and he felt like he saw stars. “Oh, God!” He shuddered, his body threatening to go over the edge again. “Touch me… Please… Please…” he begged.

Tony knew Jethro wouldn't be able to handle this for very long. And neither would he. “You want to cum again? With one hand in your ass, my other around your cock?”

Jethro needed more. He needed Tony to move, just that microscopic shift again, and the thought of that plus a hand on his cock almost short circuited his brain. “Yes… Yes…” he rolled his forehead on the leather again, needing to move something, anything.

But Tony waited just a bit longer. “I want you to really let go, Love. There's no one for miles. I want to hear you down to my bones. I want to cum without touching myself. Just from hearing you and knowing that I made you cum like that.” Jethro wasn't shy during sex, and he was often loud, but it was always controlled, even his pre-orgasmic rambling. Dirty talk and grunts and growls and cursing. This time, Tony wanted to hear him scream his release.

Jethro moaned in response. Tony scooted forward on the chair, his own cock dripping onto the floor as he brushed his hand against Jethro's balls. He leaned his head back, letting Jethro's shaky “yes...yes…” wash over him. He stroked his balls first, and watched his cock swell to an angry red, then poured lube onto his balls. Jethro gasped and tightened around his wrist, but Tony knew it was just the chill of the liquid. He slid it around, then poured more, until Jethro was slick and his hand slid with ease. He wrapped his fingers around the base, and paused.

“I'm going to move again. I'm going to stroke you, and then I'm going to move, and I'm going to keep going until your body can't cum any more. Let me hear you, Jethro.” He ached to touch himself. He had leaned forward and spread his thighs to avoid stimulating himself. If he was going to cum, he’d cum, but he didn't want to be too distracted.

He felt, more than saw, Jethro's slight nod, and Tony started stroking him. He kept it light, an even rhythm, until Jethro was whimpering and keening, begging for more. And then, he twisted his hand slightly, making his lover cry out with abandon. He kept stroking, kept twisting his hand ever so slightly back and forth, feeling his own breathing hasten as the volume in the room rose and Jethro's fast building second orgasm felt like a ball of energy surrounding them. There were no words coming from his lover, just moans and panting cries, and then Tony felt him clench his whole hand in a vice as he screamed and wailed and painted the floor with stream after stream of white cum.

The sound and the feeling of being so deep inside his lover finally sent Tony over the edge. It wasn't nearly as intense as Jethro's orgasm, but he cried out Jethro's name, and his hand jerked slightly inside Jethro, causing another tremor and loud moan of pleasure.

As they both caught their breath, Tony placed a still slick hand on the small of Jethro's back. “bear down, Love. Easy now.” He waited a second until he felt his whole channel tighten, then slowly, carefully, Tony uncurled his fingers and Jethro groaned and his breath caught in a quiet sob as Tony's hand slipped free.

As quickly as possible, Tony removed Jethro's bindings and blindfold. He used the towel from earlier to do a careful, cursory cleaning of his hands and Jethro's thighs and very gently pressed the towel against his crease, letting it sit there to absorb some lube before gently pulling it away and checking for any evidence of injury. Just a slight tinge of pink showed in one small area, and though it wasn't unexpected, he felt bad. Next, he wrapped his arms around Jethro's chest and helped him stand just enough to take the few steps to the small bed against the wall. He lowered the older man to the bed and curled behind him, still fully clothed from the waist up, and held him. Jethro was shaky and Tony knew he would probably take a long time to come back to himself, and that was ok. He stroked Jethro's hair, his face, his arm and shoulder, his chest. He kissed his neck and ear, whispering to him sentiments of love, and affection, and gratitude, hoping they'd reach his still foggy brain.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I wasn't originally going to go there, but Tony wanted a really intense session, so it just came out!
> 
> I'll admit to fully enjoying my research for this ;)
> 
> I hope the feelings parts made sense, like why these thoughts were going through his head and stuff. I could probably spend a week obsessing over this chapter (5k words!!) But I probably wouldn't change too much, so I hope it was good!


	84. Saturday+26 1030

Jethro woke curled on his side in the cabin’s bedroom. He didn't remember moving, or putting on the boxer briefs that now covered him. He tried rolling over, but Tony put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay. Trust me.”

Jethro dropped his head back down onto the pillow. “How long…” he tried to clear the hoarseness in his throat, “how long have you been watching me?”

Tony chuckled lightly into the back of his neck, “I'm not being creepy or anything. I just want to make sure you're ok.”

“I'm fine.”  _ Except for feeling like I just went 10 rounds with Mohammed Ali. _

Tony agilely sat up and hopped over Jethro's legs and settled in front of him. “Look me in the eye and say that.”

Jethro shut his eyes and groaned.

“That's what I thought. Come on. I'll get you a bath.” He hopped out of bed and held out his hand.

“How much coffee have you had?” Jethro grumbled, but his aching muscles, and especially his shoulders, needed a good soak, so he took Tony’s hand anyway. As he stood, Tony pulled him into an embrace.

“Love you,” he said, quietly.

“Love you too, Tony.” Jethro replied. They stood together for a while, until Jethro patted Tony's bare ass. “I can get my bath. You get me coffee.”

Tony laughed, “yes  _ sir _ ,” and swept downstairs to get the percolator going again. 

When he returned with a piping hot cup of Marine-black coffee, Jethro was neck deep in the old tub. “Coffee?”

Jethro held out his hand without opening his eyes, and Tony huffed in amusement. “When you're done in here, I'll give you a massage.” He kissed the top of Jethro's head, “you look like you need it.”

Jethro just grunted his thanks and took his first sips of coffee as Tony closed the door behind him.

Slowly, the caffeine helped wake him, and he took a brief inventory. He tensed and twisted and shifted everything, and was fairly surprised at how decent he felt. After everything that happened the night before, most of his body just felt as if he'd had a good workout. It hurt some to sit, yes, but it wasn't nearly as bad as he was afraid. A few bruises here and there on his ass and hips, and he figured the ache in his ass would take a day or three to get rid of, but all in all it wasn't too bad.

Soon, the water in the antique tub started to get a chilly edge to it. Jethro had finished his coffee, and he knew Tony was waiting for him, so he slowly stepped out, dried his skin and wrapped the towel around his waist.

“Damn. I love this sight.” Tony exclaimed, turning from the stove where he’d been making brunch.

Jethro just rolled his eyes and held out his coffee cup. He’d used his allotment of words last night.

Tony chuckled, “c’mere caveman. Coffee pot is full.” He held out the pot, waiting for Jethro to being his cup closer. Once it was filled, Tony pulled out a chair, then turned back to the oven, “have a seat, I made quiche.” When he turned back, Jethro was still standing in the doorway sipping his coffee. At first, Tony thought maybe he didn't hear him...then it hit him.  _ Duh, wow, way to pay attention, DiNozzo. _ “Actually, let’s snuggle on the couch. Then I’ll give you a massage.”

Jethro nodded. Soft couch cushions under his tender ass sounded a hell of a lot better than an old creaky wooden chair. He took the plate offered to him and padded to the small living room. They ate in silence, until eventually Jethro couldn’t handle Tony watching him like that anymore. “What, DiNozzo? Did I grow an extra appendage I’m unaware of?” he growled.   
  
Tony flushed and looked down at his plate, “Sorry.”   
  
Jethro sighed and put his plate down on the coffee table. “No, don’t be. Nothin’ to be sorry for.” He was being a bastard again. “I’m fine.”    
  
Tony looked him in the eye, “maybe now, but…it’s good to talk things over after something like last night.” His look was almost fearful, like he expected Jethro to blow up, or shut down, or something.    
  
Jethro leaned back onto the couch, wincing slightly at the shift in position. “talk about what? I asked for it, we came, end of story.”   
  
Tony sat his plate next to Jethro’s and leaned on the couch facing Jethro. “It’s not the cumming I want to talk about, Jethro.” He stroked his face and turned it to look at him. “You might not want to talk about it, but I’m going to. So you’re gonna listen.” Jethro sighed, but didn’t turn away. “Last night was about more than me getting to take control. I appreciate that you saw I needed it, but the most important thing that happened was you giving up the control. Giving it all up, and trusting me. Not just that I wouldn’t hurt you, not really, but that I’d stay with you through it, through the whole thing, good or bad, no matter what. Now, I don’t know exactly what went through your head, that’s your own business, I just wanted to thank you.”    
  
He paused. Jethro wasn’t sure if he was going to continue, so he answered, “Thank me for what?”    
  
“For trusting me.” He ran his fingers through the still-damp strands of salt and pepper hair, “for loving me.” He stroked Jethro’s cheek and neck, “for giving me a chance.” He kissed Jethro gently, “for not giving up on me.”    
  
Jethro gave him a crooked grin, “I don’t give up. Won’t give up on us, Tony.”    
  
An hour and a half later, Jethro had gotten the best massage he’d ever had (who knew Tony took massage courses as part of his PE degree?), complete with a happy ending. He laid on the bed, his body still limp and rubbery, with Tony sprawled on top of him like a starfish. He brought the hand that was under Tony’s body up and pulled him close to kiss the top of his head. “I hate moving in the winter,” he said, staring at the ceiling.    
  
“Hmmm?” Tony hummed questioningly. That was quite a random thought…and it wasn’t winter, it was spring.   
  
“Just thinkin’. We have about 6 or 7 months before it starts to get really chilly…my knees can’t take lifting boxes if it’s cold out.” Jethro was still a little spaced out, he wasn’t sure how much of his inner thoughts were making their way out. This made perfect sense to  _ him _ .    
  
Tony frowned, “wait, you’re leaving?”    
  
Jethro tapped the back of his head weakly, “with you, Tony. Before it’s cold. If you want me.”    
  
Tony settled back down, his head on Jethro’s chest, and his heart beating just a little faster. “I do. Always, Jethro. When you’re ready.”    
  
“Talk later. Sleep now.” Tony felt the deep rumble of Jethro’s voice through his chest. This was going to be a good weekend.

*****

“Three years? Three years?” Tony shouted into his phone as the rest of the team watched helplessly. “That's  _ bullshit  _ and you know it Fornell!”.........”No, I won't consider it a partial win.  _ No _ conviction on the attempted kidnapping, no charges on assault of a federal officer,  _ nothing _ ! It's a slap on the wrist for him, and a slap in the face to me!” Tony threw his phone across the room and McGee jumped when it hit the pole closest to him.

Jethro stood then, and stepped in front of Tony's desk. “Agent DiNozzo, I need to speak with you.”

Tony looked at him with anger in his eyes. Jethro just turned and headed for the elevator. Tony contemplated ignoring the request. They were getting better at separating work and their relationship, and he didn't want to ruin that progress. But he stood anyway and slipped into the elevator just as the doors were closing. When Jethro hit the 'emergency stop’ switch, Tony started talking. “If you're going to try and make this better with some kind of dominance thing, or sex, it’s not going to work. I'm not in the mood--”

He was cut off by a gentle kiss and Jethro just pulled him close. “None of that. Just this.”

Tony closed his eyes and slid his hands around Jethro's waist. He let Jethro thread his fingers through his hair and he rested his cheek against Jethro's. “After all he’s done. A three year sentence, probably less than a year with good behavior. And he’s got more than enough money to grease a few palms to get him plenty of perks while he’s there. It’ll be like a goddamn vacation!”    
  
Jethro didn’t respond. He didn’t placate Tony, he didn’t egg him on, he just held him. Tony ranted for several more minutes. Jethro even got a text that McGee had to call off maintenance for the “stuck elevator.” He ignored it.    
  
Finally, Tony’s breathing returned to normal. He was quiet for a while, then met Jethro’s eyes. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to listen to my temper tantrum.” He shrugged and lowered his gaze.    
  
Jethro put his finger under Tony’s chin and pulled it up to look him in the eyes again. “No, but you needed it. And I know it’s not fair. But we’ve dealt with a lot of unfairness together. There are a lot of people who don’t get what they deserve. But you should. If nothing else, all of the lemons that son of a bitch forced on you, you were able to turn into lemonade. You’ve got Ned, now, and that kid looks up to you something fierce. And you’ve got me. His intentions were shit, and he deserves a lot more than what’s coming to him, but if it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be dead right now, not holding the man I love. I’m not saying the ends justify the means, but the ends are turning out OK.”    
  
Tony thought about it. He thought about Ned, how he was coming to him for relationship advice now (oh, god, wasn’t that ironic?); how they’d all gone to a baseball game together and he’d thought it was adorable how Ned stared at Reid with his puppy dog eyes as the young genius gave random fact after random fact about the history, physics, and mathematics of baseball; how pleased he’d been when he found out Ned was nervous about doing something nice for him for father’s day (Tony hadn’t told him…he’d let the kid surprise him if that’s what he wanted, even though he didn’t think he deserved it). He thought about just how happy he was with Jethro. How he wanted to spend the rest of his life loving him, instead of being scared of the thought. How he trusted him when he said he loved him, instead of immediately assuming he was faking it. “The ends are better than OK.” He whispered, and rested his forehead against Jethro’s.    
  
“Cabin again tonight?” Jethro asked. “I want to talk about something…and I’m craving steak.” Tony had stopped letting him cook in his fireplace now that they were spending more time at the cabin.    
  
Tony nodded. He kindof liked how comfortable they were at each other’s places now. He had some space in Jethro’s closet and dresser, Jethro had space in his. They each had duplicates of all their toiletries, except the bubble bath. Tony kept that at Jethro’s for when he wanted to soak in the huge claw foot tub, much to Jethro's dismay (apparently it made the whole cabin smell like a French whorehouse...Tony kept asking how he knew what that smelled like, and Jethro eventually stopped complaining). The fact that Jethro actually wanted to talk about something made him a little worried, but he could tell it wasn’t anything bad. So he waited. They worked cold cases, thankfully, and left on time. Tony actually left with the rest of the team, he needed to not be alone right then. He didn’t want to dwell on the crock of shit that was his father’s case.    
  
In the parking garage, Tony motioned to Jethro as he unlocked his car. “Carpool?”    
  
Jethro smirked, “not leaving my car. Ride with me?”   
  
Tony rolled his eyes and hit the button to re-lock his car as he climbed into the passenger seat. “You’ve got control issues.”    
  
Jethro crooked an eyebrow, “can ya blame me?”    
  
From anyone else, Tony would have blown it off as a joke, but immediately he felt guilty. “Yeah, uh…Guess not…” He muttered.  _ Open mouth, insert foot, DiNozzo _ .    
  
Jethro smiled, “aw hell, I had control issues since I was 12. Ask Jack.”    
  
Tony was relieved, “he mentioned your ‘problems with authority,’ same difference.”    
  
The brief tension lifted, the rest of the ride was good, and once dinner was started, Jethro sat on the couch and pulled Tony into his lap. “Let’s move in together.”    
  
Tony straightened, “I said when you’re ready, Jethro, I didn’t mean it had to be right now!” It was only a few days since they’d had that half-conversation.    
  
Jethro shrugged, “wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t ready. But…” he hit the wall he so often had to scale when he was forced to really TALK about things.    
  
Tony frowned, “but what?...What’s wrong?”    
  
Jethro didn’t know how to make this come out right, so he just said it. “I don’t want to move into your house.”    
  
Tony snorted, “well I like this place, but it’s a bit small for two, don’t you think?” His smile faded quickly when he saw Jethro hadn’t smiled. “wait, you seriously wanted me to move in here? I didn’t mean to dismiss it like that…I do like it here…”    
  
Jethro shook his head, “no, I don’t want to stay here long term, Tony. I never did. I want to talk about, maybe, if you’re interested, getting a new place. Together.” He looked at Tony hopefully. “I get it if you’re attached to your house, I just wanted to talk about it.”    
  
Tony scooted forward so his knees were on the couch and he wasn’t putting so much pressure on Jethro’s knees. “Is that why you mentioned moving before winter?”   
  
Jethro nodded, pulling Tony forward and settling his forehead against the broad chest. “Might take a while to find a place we like, and finding a buyer or renter for your place, if we decide to go this route.”    
  
Tony wrapped his arms around Jethro’s neck and rested his cheek on top of his head. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about selling. Maybe I should have, when we got your freedom. I should have thought about this as a solution. I don’t know why I didn’t.”    
  
Jethro shook his head, “you love that house. I know you do. Financially, it didn’t make sense to up and leave right then, and I wouldn’t have asked you to. But things are different now.”    
  
Tony leaned back a bit, his brow furrowed, “different how? I mean, we’re better, I think. As much as I didn’t like you leaving, you were right to do it.”    
  
Jethro sighed, “I got a pay settlement from the Marines for my time ‘held as a captive.’ It’s not POW pay, but it’s enough even if we didn’t sell your house.”    
  
Tony inhaled sharply, “when did this happen? You didn’t tell me?” He was more hurt than angry. Why wouldn’t Jethro tell him?    
  
“I didn’t know what I wanted to do with the money. Half is in a retirement account, Marine pension isn’t great. And I didn’t know what to say about it, so I figured I’d ignore it for a few months and eventually I’d figure it out. Now I know what I want to do. I want to buy a home with you. If you want.” Jethro did feel bad he didn’t talk about the money sooner, but he was talking about it now. He hoped it was enough.    
  
Tony blinked a few times. He didn’t pry as to how much was “enough” in Jethro’s words, but he thought about the request. He thought about selling his house. The house he’d been preapproved for when he was with Wendy, the one he loved because he had a knee jerk reaction to being told he was just a man-child when she left. The one he thought would change him and make him settle down into a guy who liked yard work and repairing things. The one he knew was his home, through and through, as a bachelor. And he kissed Jethro. Hard. He slid his hips forward as far as they could go, pressing against Jethro’s insistently. “Let’s do it. Let’s buy a house together. Let’s find our dream house.”   
  
Jethro kissed back, smiling the whole time. This was going to work. They were going to work.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I have an epilogue. But this is how I originally intended it to end.


	85. Epilogue

Tony rolled over and groaned. His body ached from head to toe. They’d spent the past 3 days moving everything from his house, and most things from Jethro’s cabin, to the new house. The sale had closed a week ago, and it was finally done. His house wasn’t selling, so Derek had agreed to help them find a renter, and with the help of their friends, they’d moved into their dream house. It wasn’t a huge mansion, but it was big enough. Four bedrooms, two and a half baths, and around 2,000 square feet left plenty of room for them, as well as guests. There was a den that fit Tony’s piano perfectly, and the 2-car garage was an extra 12 feet long, giving Jethro a workshop to be proud of. 

The house didn’t have an inground pool or tennis courts like Tony had grown up with, but he HAD insisted on the jetted tub. Thank _ god for small comforts _ , he thought, as he rolled out of bed and trudged toward the bathroom. He barely opened his eyes, groping around until he cranked the hot water and started filling the bath.   
  
He looked up as the door opened and Jethro slipped in, two coffee mugs in his hand. “How’s your back?”    
  
Tony groaned. “Let’s never do this again, OK?” Jethro smiled and passed Tony his coffee. “How’s your knee?”    
  
Jethro sat on the toilet and straightened his leg. “The brace Ducky gave me seemed to help. It’s not too bad. I brought aspirin for you too.” He held out the small capsules in his hand, and Tony took them from him.    
  
“Thanks.” He leaned back and rested his head on the edge of the tub. It was almost full enough to turn on the jets.    
  
“You know that’s big enough for 2, right?” Jethro said, smiling.    
  
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna share the jets.” Tony grinned without opening his eyes. “There’s a shower down the hall, this one’s mine for now.”    
  
Jethro leaned forward and planted a kiss on Tony’s cheek, “Come to the garage when you’re done, I’ve got a surprise for you.”    
  
Tony opened one eye and lifted his brow, “really?”   
  
Jethro smirked, “Yes, really.”    
  
Instead of spending an hour in the tub like he wanted, Tony let the jets work their magic for 20 minutes, then stepped out and did some stretching. He called his chiropractor and made an appointment for the next morning, then went downstairs. He dropped his mug in the kitchen sink and went to the door that led to the attached garage. The rear area had already been modified into a well-appointed workshop, and in the center was a large piece covered in canvas. Jethro was sitting on a stool, his feet propped on the work bench, browsing through a catalogue. Tony stepped closer and flipped the cover up so he could see what Jethro was looking at. “Exotic wood? That sounds like something any other guy would stash in his workshop, but the contents are a little different…”   
  
Jethro smirked, “I’ve got some projects in mind. But I’ve been working on this one for a while.” He kicked his feet to the floor and stood next to the canvas. “You ready?”   
  
Tony clapped and wiggled slightly, “come on, just show me already!”    
  
Jethro’s heart swelled at how excited and happy Tony seemed, even after the exhausting few days before. “Well, it’s sort of for both of us…”    
  
Tony whined.    
  
“Abby is rubbing off on you.” Jethro said, grabbing the corner of the fabric.    
  
“Maybe. I can start drinking caf-pows next…” Tony grinned.    
  
“Alright, alright, don’t do that!” Jethro said, and flipped the canvas up to reveal his gift.    
  
Tony gasped, covering his mouth in surprise. He stepped forward and ran his hand along the beautifully carved wood, “how did you hide this from me?”    
  
Jethro smirked, “you never ventured to the shed at the cabin. Where do you think I did my woodworking when I was there?”    
  
Tony nodded in realization. Then he froze and turned slowly. “You…You made us carry my bed upstairs, when you had THIS hidden away? Do you know how HEAVY that bed is?! And now we have to move it AGAIN?!”    
  
Jethro held up his hands, “we have a guest room! It’s just a shift across the hall, Tony. No big deal.”    
  
Tony put his hands on his hips. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs, it IS a big deal!” He tried to keep a straight face. He really did. But his lover looked so damn adorable, his eyebrows raised in hopeful expectation, that he dropped his hands to his sides, sighed, and turned back toward the brand new headboard and footboard in front of him. “It’s beautiful. And perfect.”    
  
Jethro stood behind him and wrapped his arms around him, “you keep bumping your feet on the other one, so I made you a California King. Mattress and box springs are being delivered this afternoon. And…” he let go of Tony and reached behind one of the posts of the headboard and Tony heard a slight rattle. He stepped forward and saw a thick steel ring bolted to the wood. “Sturdy enough for some fun, but discreet.”    
  
Tony smiled and chuckled. “It’s perfect, baby. Thank you.”    
  
Jethro hugged him, “Happy Anniversary.”    
  
Tony stiffened and pulled back, “can we pick a different day? The day I sucked you off against the boat? The day you got your freedom? Something else.” His hand dropped to Jethro’s hip, his thumb lightly brushing against where he knew the brand was still prominent. He felt tears welling behind his eyes. He hadn’t thought about their introduction in a long time. “I still can’t believe I hurt you like that.”   
  
Jethro cupped his face. “You know what this reminds me of?” His other hand covered Tony's and slid over his hip, directly over the initials emblazoned on his skin.

Tony sighed, “the fact that I  _ owned _ you? That I was stupid and chained you to a bed in my basement? That I--”

He was cut off by a firm cuff to the back of the head. “No. That, for the first time in 15 years, I met someone who saw me as a person. That, because it was  _ you _ I would spend the rest of my life with, I'd be ok. That even if my life was destined to be short, you'd never be unfair.”

Tony glared at him, “I  _ was _ unfair! It was all unfair!”

Jethro was calm and smiling slightly. “The situation was, yes. But for you  _ and _ me. I was a slave, Tony. What happened those first few days was  _ more _ than fair.” He pulled Tony in for a kiss. “As spiteful and angry as I was, I knew you were a good man. I still do. So I'm choosing to keep this,” he pulled his sleep pants down just enough to reveal the scarred flesh, “for one reason.” He paused as Tony gently touched it. “It was put there to symbolize that I would spend the rest of my life with you. The circumstances don't matter anymore, because I'm proud that we're together  _ now. _ You know I never want to get married again, but I do want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

Tony traced the letters with his fingers, repeatedly clenching and unclenching his jaw to keep his emotions in check. Eventually, he straightened. “Then let's make it even.”

Jethro furrowed his brow. “What?”

Tony smiled, “Jethro, I want to spend my life with you too. We don't need a piece of paper to tell us that, but if that is how you see  _ this _ ?” He pressed slightly harder on the scar, “then let's make it a matched set. I claimed you that day. I saw your strength, your character, your protectiveness, and I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I claimed you. Now it's your turn.”

Jethro stepped back, “Tony, that's...I don't know if I can.” He shook his head.

“Yes you can. I know someone who can make what we'd need. I'd be honored to be yours for the rest of my life.”

After much deliberation, Jethro met with a local artist who helped him design the small piece of iron. While Tony's had been ornate scrollwork, Jethro decided on something much simpler. Just his three initials, overlapped artfully, and it was finished within two hours. That night, he strapped Tony to the cross and played with him, dropping him into the place in his mind where pain brought pleasure, and his endorphins were soaring. Before he pulled the brand from the fire, he stepped closer to Tony “Last chance, Tony. Safe word now and we skip to the part where I drop to my knees and suck you off.”

Tony shook his head. “Matching set. Please.” 

Jethro kissed him hard, cupping his balls and stroking his cock until he was begging loudly, then grabbed the brand. Careful to keep Tony's erection safely covered, Jethro firmly pressed the red hot iron onto Tony's flesh, ignoring his cry until he was certain there would be no question that it would heal clearly and properly. He quickly cleaned the wound, covered it with gauze, then dropped to his knees and brought Tony back to his previous state of hardness and orgasm faster than he expected.

Later, lying in bed, Tony was half asleep when he started giggling.

“You ok?” Jethro asked.

“Yeah, I was just thinking how grateful I am that it’s just us here.”

Jethro huffed in amusement. “Maria would've tried to tan my hide if she heard you scream like that.”

“Probably. But I'm gonna miss her empanadas.”

Jethro nodded. “Jack said they'll bring truckloads the next time they visit.” After lots of flirting and phone calls, and a few dates, Jackson had invited Maria to move in with him. She declined at first, but he showed up with flowers and asked for Jethro's blessing to ask again. A month later, she was already running the pot luck of the Stillwater rotary club, and Tony was petitioning to hasten the paperwork he’d submitted to allow her “retirement” and freedom. Abby was helping plan their wedding, with Jethro as Best Man and Tony as the Man of Honor. The minute her papers came through, everything was ready to proceed.   


They were silent for a while, and when Jethro was sure Tony had fallen asleep, he slipped downstairs for a late night cup of coffee. As he sipped, he looked around the open living room and dining room, smiling at the photos on the walls. Some were photos of them, candids from the past year, mostly this summer, but a lot were family photos. Tony had been on a mission, including Ned and Jackson, getting copies of lots of family photos from their childhoods. He'd also hung, directly over the fireplace, a copy of one of the family portraits Jethro had purchased when he was home on leave when Kelly was almost 7. They'd only lived here for a day, and it felt like home. “He straightened me out, Shan,” he said, approaching the fireplace. “You'd like him. Kelly too. Miss you girls.” He sat the mug down on the mantel, pressed a kiss to his fingers and laid them across the photo. “I never thought I'd be happy again. But I am. We are.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People should sign up for Jacie's secret Santa exchange here: <http://archiveofourown.org/collections/NCIS_SeSa_2016>
> 
> The more the merrier!


End file.
